My patio table loves warm summer days. So do I. Neither one of us is happy.
I woke up to a nightmare this morning. There was frost. On the ground, in the air - everywhere!
If you really know me then you understand that the only time I like the word “frost” is when it’s associated with Robert. When the temperatures dip below 70 I’m unhappy. When they sneak past 60 I’m irritable. When they plunge into frost range or lower? I achieve the perfect storm of misery and rage.
Yesterday Rob raked the entire yard and this morning the remaining leaves were fleeing branches like lemmings leaping en masse from a cliff. I wish I had taken video instead of a photo because the leaves were falling so quickly and in such mass quantities that you could actually hear them plunging to their deaths from across the yard.
Good-bye cruel world!
It’s official. We are further from summer and closer to winter. The frost is on the pumpkin. Or in our case, the random toys discarded on the back porch.
I think it’s by no coincidence that frost and deadly bacteria look eerily the same.