Bertrand Russell said that when he talked to another philosopher, he felt that human happiness was no longer possible. When he talked to his gardener, he felt exactly the opposite. I bet he didn’t talk to his gardener in December, when the poor fellow was hunched in his potting shed, warming his hands on a mug of cocoa and gazing morosely out over his frostbitten borders.
On the other hand, December is perhaps the best month for that important job, winter digging.
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