There was no moon, and under the low cloud cover a brisk unseasonable wind ruffled the old Norwegian maples that lined the street and dropped a fine rain of spring buds on my shoulders and in my hair.

NEWYORKER: Wakefield

Antiwar signs were piled against a fence nearby in this working-class neighborhood of triple-decker houses and towering trees bearing the first buds of spring.

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The trees surrounding Concord and covering the sloped terrain of nearby Walden appear stunned by the drought, reluctant to reveal the swollen green buds still waiting for spring to arrive.

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