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First, feral cat news: Alger has spent the last two days sleeping on my back porch most of the day. At night he vanishes. Tommy Two-Tone hasn't made an appearance that I'm aware of. He'll probably show up eventually, but I hope it will be when Alger is away. Every time Tommy sees Alger there's a fight, unless Alger sees him first and makes an escape. Alger is being very bold to spend so much time asleep here. He must be getting more confident. Either that, or he has a very short memory.
There is a chance that spring will actually arrive here six days hence. The first day since January with a temperature above 70 degrees just might be next Thursday, which will be the last day of March. If it does turn out to be warm, I intend to celebrate. I haven't decided how yet, but it will probably involve iced beverages. It's about time.
It's certainly nowhere near 70 degrees tonight. It's cold and wet and there's no sign of the waning gibbous moon— not even a pale spot in the clouds. But the wind has stopped blowing, and there probably won't be any trees falling onto the house. I'll have a chance to get some undisturbed sleep before the next windstorm arrives on Saturday. March just blows.
There is a chance that spring will actually arrive here six days hence. The first day since January with a temperature above 70 degrees just might be next Thursday, which will be the last day of March. If it does turn out to be warm, I intend to celebrate. I haven't decided how yet, but it will probably involve iced beverages. It's about time.
It's certainly nowhere near 70 degrees tonight. It's cold and wet and there's no sign of the waning gibbous moon— not even a pale spot in the clouds. But the wind has stopped blowing, and there probably won't be any trees falling onto the house. I'll have a chance to get some undisturbed sleep before the next windstorm arrives on Saturday. March just blows.
