it just gets more and more imponderable

So what do you think about those solar flares out there, huh? Paul asks customers as they come into his café. From there, the conversation can only head in odd directions. One person responds – eh, we’re all going to die soon anyway. Another – yeah and on top of it, it’s so damn hot in my office! She’s in a sleeveless dress. Didn't even come in with a jacket or a coat.

But I have to say, to me too, the weather out there has crossed the line. Yesterday I could still say – wow, isn’t this grand? Today, my inclination is to feel a bit uneasy. It’s almost too warm (this, coming from a person who can never have enough of “warm”).

Of course, I ride Rosie to work.





But, on the late afternoon return, the biker jacket feels stuffy. The gloves are too clammy. I tilt the visor up to get breeze on my face.

I say to Paul – weird, how warm it is...



In my pause after teaching, I check Facebook. A perfect two minute break. Say what? It seems that when I agreed to “like” a restaurant in town last week, I was entered into a pool of potential winners. Odds? 2000 to 1. And it seems that I have won! No huge deal – the prize is  a sampling of wines and cheeses, but still – I love that I’ve won! At the same time, I never like beating the odds. I like to believe that the unlikely will not happen!


At the farmhouse, the windows stay open today. When we rebuilt the interior, the farmhouse took on a wonderfully fresh smell. But as the cold season set in, that new house scent rescinded. Now, as soon as I open the windows, the freshness comes back. You have no idea how heady the scent is: of wood, of earth, of delightfully pure air.






I keep Rosie ready for the next day. That sweet red thing saves me time and money. You might ask -- how could it make a difference? The route is short, the savings surely are insignificant. I would respond -- oh, but today, I came home with enough time for a half hour of honeysuckle chopping out back. As I worked the clippers around hefty limbs and Ed dragged them to a burn pile (to my commenter, Earth Girl -- thank you for the idea! We'll burn next winter, in celebration of the first snow!), I thought -- life surely has been kind to me.





In the evening I meet friends downtown at Graze. I hadn't seen them for a long time and suddenly it seems like all good things fall upon this day of warm air, pretty platters of solidly good food, jovial updates of months gone by.









Tomorrow, I am told that the temps will be warmer, better, more approachable. Better? How could it be better? The windows stay open tonight. The air still feels summer warm. Weird. But beautiful. So very beautiful.