Ah, Wyoming. Where it snows at least once every September. Always. In spite of this being a fact and required by the laws of nature, it always catches us by surprise when the severe weather announcements start.
And we try to deny that is happening.
Which is why it was 40 degrees and raining a fat drizzle on Thursday afternoon when I started the desperate process of bringing plants in from the cold. My pepper plant and eggplant have just started making fruit (remember the hail storm in late June?) so I’m glad they are in pots.
Obi is glad, too.
He’s been asked not to sit in the parsley this year. Nobody said anything about the oregano.
It was 103 here today. I’ll be happy to mail you 30 degrees or so.
Oh, it popped right back to warm and will stay that way long enough to convince people that the Halloween costumes don’t need to fit over parkas. Suckers.
Damnit, stop bragging. I would give anything for snow. Oregon has been hotter and drier than an AA meeting in Vegas all freakin’ summer. The leaves are falling off the trees while they’re still green. A little sleet would be like a Powerball win right now.
Ick. I’ll keep our weather, thanks. I do not like hot and dry.
Neither do I. They told me Portland, Oregon, would be cold and wet. (sigh)