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In the Field Newsletter Volume 82

Spring seems hesitant to come into its own this year. Or maybe it’s winter holding on stubbornly refusing to recognize that its time has passed - at least for now - but will always come around again. A promise. Similar to the promise that day will always follow night. Why am I waxing poetic? I am searching for hope, digging deep to find my optimism, to remind myself and you (I guess) that the gathering clouds, the political miasma that seems to be settling in will only be for a moment in time.

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