For weeks now, spheres of white fuzz--like the head of a dandelion--have been blowing over the fence of my community garden and amassing on the curb. Once, I caught a white cat lounging in the downfall. "What are you hiding from, little cat?" I wondered.
It is hard not to get carried away when reminded of childhood, but I wish I had been able to warn the man who lost his sandal mid-frolic. He might not want to be barefoot in the surrounding area.
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