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The Cover
April 28, 1999

Spring Landscape in Deer Grove

JAMA. 1999;281(16):1467. doi:10.1001/jama.281.16.1467

As surely as we believe the sun will rise each day and set each evening, as surely as we know the moon marks the months, just as surely do we believe that spring will follow winter. And though our senses insist we are wrong, this time, at least, once again it does. Just when the snow has shriveled into sooty mounds of Styrofoam lace, just when our winter coats have grown impossibly shabby, just when we have become hopelessly trapped in an infinity of gray, it happens: the angle of light shifts, if ever so slightly. There is a softness on the cheek we had forgotten ever existed. The trees are still bare, but the shadows their branches cast on the sidewalks are perceptibly thicker, even if, like the light, it is ever so slightly.

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