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rejectomorphThe summer clouds are back. Little whorls and streaks of cream float through pale blue sky, and a few whipped puffs top the distant mountain ridges. It looks tasty. But it is one of those in-between days, not hot enough to justify running the air conditioner, yet hot enough to give Sluggo conniptions. In lieu of Internet time, I have thus sat in the shade for a while, watching the cat nap and the birds peck the brown lawn. The birds would probably prefer that I water the lawn, but they aren't the ones who must pay the water bill, so they're out of luck. Let them consider themselves fortunate that the cat is too content napping to eat them.
I see that the oak leaves are already darkening toward their midsummer ripeness. All through the season, they grow darker and tougher. The new walnuts are growing darker, too, but are still paler than the leaves. The handful of peaches produced by the small tree in the front yard have been harvested, a month ahead of their usual time. Everything bloomed and ripened prematurely this year. I'm wondering if autumn will come early, too, or if the summer will stretch itself out into October, as it sometimes does. The days feel like August to me, so I'm growing impatient for rain.
Another nap for Sluggo, more cloud watching for me.
I see that the oak leaves are already darkening toward their midsummer ripeness. All through the season, they grow darker and tougher. The new walnuts are growing darker, too, but are still paler than the leaves. The handful of peaches produced by the small tree in the front yard have been harvested, a month ahead of their usual time. Everything bloomed and ripened prematurely this year. I'm wondering if autumn will come early, too, or if the summer will stretch itself out into October, as it sometimes does. The days feel like August to me, so I'm growing impatient for rain.
Another nap for Sluggo, more cloud watching for me.
