Tea steeped in the pot between us, while outside a mixture of finches visited the feeder above the snow. Nearby, the fire whistled and popped. Peaceful. A simple "How are you?" interrupted the scene with my friend's admission of distress. "These are such troubled times. I don't know what we're going to do."These are troubled times. Some of the chaos isn't new. Every generation has it's distress, though the names of the characters change. After all, purple finches have never been "purple"; they've always been red. In troubled times, we have a lot more than the color of finches on our hearts. ...
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