By Susan Harper
After a week of creeping around huddled in jackets with hoods, and so swathed in scarves that I probably looked like a potential terrorist, I stepped out the door this morning dressed for the worst (from sheer habit), and voila! — the worm had not only turned, but had been eaten by a broad-breasted robin. Spring had somehow sneaked in while I slept. Daffodils were blooming in my yard, and boy did I feel silly in my terrorist garb now that the temperature had gone up by 50 degrees.