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As I open the front door, the seventy-five degree January day stops me in my tracks. It always has, ever since moving from snow to sunshine a decade ago. A warm breeze ruffles the palm tree in our neighbor’s yard and sends a little ripple of sound through our otherwise quiet neighborhood. I take a deep breath in and smell the jasmine from our other neighbor’s bush. I exhale gratitude. I’ve always been a bit of a brown thumb myself.

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