A DELAYED POST
When I was young my cousin and I always laughed at what the aunts and uncles talked about when they got together. The women always talked about their ailments or people they new that were dead and the men always talked about the weather.
Even today when I write my cousin (the only kin that I keep in touch with) I always begin the letter with the weather. Perhaps it is something in my DNA.
Well, the temperature here in the western
mountains was sixty-six yesterday and it is fifty-two and foggy this
It seems a little early but there are already red leaves starting to appear on the maple tree in front of the house and on the sumac along the road. This could be the sign of an early fall and long winter. Perhaps I should consult the wooly-bully caterpillar.
I still have one more cord of firewood to have delivered. So far I have about two and a half cord in my woodshed and that is what I expect to burn in a normal winter; but better too much than run short.
Some folks might think that the beginning of August is a little too early to begin thinking about winter – but they don’t live in rural
. In Maine you are either in
winter; relived to see winter go; or thinking about the next winter. Maine
Don’t get me wrong: I love winter – especially that first crisp white snowfall of the year. Winter is why we choose to live in