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			 Spring mornings are a lot like Christmas. Each day 
			we get up and go out into the yard, or walk along the creek or visit 
			the horses in the pasture. And each day, each morning, we find 
			something new the sun has brought us. 
 Pinfeather leaves of an unbelievable green now start showing on 
			cottonwoods that have stood like stark ghostly frames all through 
			the cold winter. Hopeful blades of grass peek through clumps of 
			brown left over from last summer’s verdant pasture. Everywhere we 
			look there is something new and different.
 
 A lot of this Christmas-in-spring is kept just among us, because we 
			might be accused of being ... well ... poetic if we told people why 
			we were really carrying that coffee cup out into the yard. So we say 
			lame things like “I think I’ll get some of that fresh air this 
			morning.” What we really mean, of course, is “I want to see if 
			Richardson’s bay mare has had that foal yet.”
 
			 
			
 Some of us have worked very hard last fall and winter to prepare for 
			this spring. By grafting. OK, we have a Granny Smith apple tree. 
			Let’s see if we can’t get a branch of Rome Beauties or Jonagolds to 
			grow on it, too. And we understand completely that where we live no 
			olive tree can survive the winter. That isn’t supposed to stop us 
			from trying, is it?
 Nature pitches us a 
			boatload of challenges each day that we’re alive. This plant needs 
			more water than falls naturally here. That tree can’t take the 
			temperatures we get. This little tree needs soil with more organic 
			matter in it. [to top of second 
            column] | 
            
			 And those challenges are the 
			stuff winter dreams are made of. We do the best we can to cure the 
			lack, the freeze, the drought, and then we wait for April. We wait 
			impatiently until we can come out of the house some morning and 
			check the grafts on the apple tree and see tiny green leaves coming 
			on the grafted branch. We search the bare ground where we planted 
			that new kind of seed that won’t grow here - to see if it’ll grow 
			here.
 It is a continuing feast of green, a triumph of anticipation. An 
			April morning can make us want to sing.
 [Text from file received from 
			Slim Randles] 
			 
			 Ol' Jimmy Dollar 
			is Slim Randles' first children's book.  The book is for kids 
			K-3rd grades and is even better when parents read it with children. 
			Ol' Jimmy Dollar makes for sweet dreams and if you have a dog 
			even better.  Available now on Amazon. |