like buttah.

On a day off this past week I spent most of an hour just sitting in the middle of a field of buttercups in the middle of a Revolutionary Battlefield trying to determine if I liked butter. 

As a child, I would pick a crumpled handful of these and take them to my Grandmother. She would insist on holding them under my chin to see the vibrancy of the reflection and determine how much I loved butter. Needless to say, my cholesterol level has never been the same.

   

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