Pulling out of my driveway on a morning trek to work recently, dozens of freshly dropped maple samaras peeled from the windshield and roof rack like molting bird feathers wafting away in the breeze.
With a swipe of the wiper blades, the last of the winged seed pods departed the vehicle, and I smiled at the recognition of Mother Nature’s attempt at seasonal renewal. In fact, multiple instances have sprung up lately where the promise of a new generation has been apparent or pending.
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