It's 49 degrees outside at dawn as we step outside together on this Fourth of July, 2014.
My big dog Mick and I are shivering. We can feel the cold breath of autumn on our sleepy faces, and the morning mist up from the creek is icy blue and cold.
The only sound we hear in the peculiar stillness of this summer morning is the call of one lone mourning dove who seems to grieve the temporary, unexpected loss of summer warmth, as we do.
The only sound we hear in the peculiar stillness of this summer morning is the call of one lone mourning dove who seems to grieve the temporary, unexpected loss of summer warmth, as we do.
The bitter memory of winter past resurfaces, and I am wondering; is this a weather omen?
The coming seasons... Will they be cold and early?
The coming seasons... Will they be cold and early?
"WHERE HAS ALL THE WARM AIR GONE?"
