It's a Sunday morning. The sun is just pushing its way up above leaf-filled trees. My fingers are sore and sweaty. A cool-for-late-June-in-Minnesota breeze kisses my face (thank you, wind!)…
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It's a Sunday morning. The sun is just pushing its way up above leaf-filled trees. My fingers are sore and sweaty. A cool-for-late-June-in-Minnesota breeze kisses my face (thank you, wind!)…
Read More