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rejectomorphMy very first LJ poll got quite a few answers. And the consensus seems to be that it is a good thing that I am wearing pants. I am pleased. I will probably wear pants from now on.
Today, however, was warm enough that I'd have been justified in not wearing pants. Still, the heat was greatly ameliorated in the afternoon by a cool breeze. I had a pleasant walk down to the end of the last street in town. Nearby, they were trimming the trees along the streets to keep them from interfering with the utility wires. In a place with as many trees as this, that is an endless task. Especially in spring, we often hear the deafening whine of the wood chipper as the offending branches are tossed into it, and the scent of shattered wood and chopped foliage mingles with the smell of diesel fuel in the air.
Last night was the first night since last fall when I heard crickets singing all night long. They sang slowly, since the nights are not yet very warm, yet is was warm enough for this annual harbinger-of-summer concert. I hear a few crickets singing outside my window now, hidden among last fall's decaying leaves in the shade of the bushes where dusk comes early. Welcome back, little bugs. A happy new season to us all!
Today, however, was warm enough that I'd have been justified in not wearing pants. Still, the heat was greatly ameliorated in the afternoon by a cool breeze. I had a pleasant walk down to the end of the last street in town. Nearby, they were trimming the trees along the streets to keep them from interfering with the utility wires. In a place with as many trees as this, that is an endless task. Especially in spring, we often hear the deafening whine of the wood chipper as the offending branches are tossed into it, and the scent of shattered wood and chopped foliage mingles with the smell of diesel fuel in the air.
Last night was the first night since last fall when I heard crickets singing all night long. They sang slowly, since the nights are not yet very warm, yet is was warm enough for this annual harbinger-of-summer concert. I hear a few crickets singing outside my window now, hidden among last fall's decaying leaves in the shade of the bushes where dusk comes early. Welcome back, little bugs. A happy new season to us all!
