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I know it is too early to plant seeds.  I know we will most likely have another hard frost, maybe even a freeze. I’m looking up at the impatient peach tree with pink showing at the tips of the buds. The mockingbird practices his octaves. “Where’s my lady love?” he sings away. The tree creeper’s chorus vibrates the evening fog.

By the time you read this, the issue may have been worked out.

In a time when we are all concerned with economic stability, Mr. Berry is a clear voice urging us to trace our economic problems to their roots.