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Letter from the Editor

The saint’s day gives us the first green of the year — plus an Old Country lesson in sustainability

With spring one more tantalizing week away, we’re grasping at straws that bespeak the awaited season.     Meteorological winter is over and temperatures rising, sometimes imperceptibly, but inevitably until July, our hottest month, has us wishing for a trip to last winter’s icehouse. Peepers and their amphibian brethren are singing, as you know or will on reading this week’s Creature Feature. Crocuses are blooming, at least in some sunny yards. Daffodils are rising, their leaves now standing four to six inches above ground.

Read on; dreaming is ageless

For generations of kids, summer was what you wrote home about. For the week or two of camp — even the whole expansive summer for the lucky ones who lived on the water or traded inland homes for once fashionable boarding houses — you might as well have been in heaven, were it not for the sea nettles.     Those times have never ended.     This week, Bay Weekly shows you how, where and when the kids in your life can continue the tradition. With or without jellyfish.

Put in the right hole, our money — and effort — makes a difference.

As winter hangs on like a bad cold, my hibernating nature has sought no bigger decision than whether to devote the 9pm Sunday hour to Downton Abbey or True Detective.     Yet in the wider world, big stuff — actual transformative change — is going on. So I’ve poked my head out of the burrow to take a look.

1. You’d ride an icebreaker rather than stay ashore one day longer. (See Bob Melamud’s feature story, The Coolest Ride up the Bay.) 2. The visiting swans and snowy owls had boots and sweaters shipped in from the tundra. 3. Need a loan to pay your bird (and squirrel) food bill.   4. Holiday decorations have been up for so long a neighbor asks if you’re early this year.   5. The most common-colored car? Salt gray.

Every love story has to start somewhere

Love is a quest we all have in common.     But where to find it? Ah, that’s the question.     Every story in Bay Weekly’s now 21-year-old annual Valentine’s Day perusal of life and literature’s great theme has touched on that question.     Don’t look to this year’s pair of love stories to break the rule.     The quest is the adventure of “Winking at Mr. Darcy,” pseudonymous writer Liz Bennet’s chronicle of her one-month trial of Match.com.

Bay Weekly’s 17th annual Mid-Winter Movie Escape will see you through

A lot about February makes a person want to nestle with a good movie.

Snowstorm memories from long ago bring a real tingle

Sending out school buses to pick up kids at the usual early hour on the slick morning of Friday, January 10, has Anne Arundel and Calvert school administrators groveling and parents howling.     When I was a kid, we’d walk miles to school in the worst weather winter could throw at us.     Okay, I’m exaggerating a generation or two. The only time I walked miles in the worst weather winter could throw at us was to get away from school.

Like fast trains and beagles, you’ve got to move to catch the news

A new year runs like Acela Express. After the brief slowdown as it pulls into the station on January 1, it doesn’t take long to get up to speed. Soon the days are zooming by at 70mph — with occasional rushes double that rate.     So we, too, had better be on the ball, or we’ll be behind it.

The scoop on this year’s General Assembly

For reliable sources, you can’t do better than Thomas V. ‘Mike’ Miller. The 27-year president of the Maryland Senate knows the inside story of pretty much everything that’s happened in Maryland politics for the last 40 years. Nor is his knowledge limited to the past. If anybody can predict the future, he can. He is — and he’ll tell you so — the man who says what goes where and what goes nowhere in the Maryland Senate.

Beyond generosity to jobs

It seems like just yesterday that I last saw you here, but here it is a whole year later. 2013 — so recently new and now all used up — raced into history in record time. 2014 will go just as fast, so we’d best plan right now to make best use of it.     That was the resolution I drank to as midnight, December 31, turned 2013 into the thin stuff of memory. New Year, I said, I’m going to make something of you. Like the Broadneck Trail you’ll read about in this issue, I’m going some place this year.