jump the hedges first.

The surest sign of spring I've seen so far, ignoring the obvious sub-zero temperatures and perpetual southwestern Ontario snowfall: finally visible from beneath a slowly melting snowbank, the body of one dead squirrel set peacefully spreadeagled on a sunny stretch of sidewalk along Central Avenue. Looking like he's just laying out for a light afternoon tan. No bloodspots to speak of. The end of his tail already partially trampled by the salty winter boots of ignorant, good-for-nothing co-eds such as myself. Goodbye, James Squirrel Jones. Hello, springsomething.