In which I try to find spring, but wind up snapping a photo of sneakers (photograph).

In which a magical fog rolls through Vancouver (photograph).

Mal was found in the garden, unhatched, and incubated by a black chicken. She[1] came later than the rest, towards the end of the summer, once they had already fledged and left the hen house. It was clear she was a mallard, not a muscovy, and with that the decision was made. A week later [...]

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