Summer Snow

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 Summer Snow


I wake up. I open the curtain. I blink my eyes. Still a bit in Wisconsin’s never-ending-winter mode, I think, “It’s June. It’s warm. What are all those white flakes doing floating down the sky?” 


Well, it’s not snow, They’re not flakes. And they’re not from the sky. They are cottony-looking. They’re the reason the nearby trees are called cottonwoods. And these trees really know how to spread their seeds. It’s a blizzard of white.

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