While our house is being buffeted by hard-driving rain, I am reminded of another spring storm five years ago. I’m going to curl up with a book.
There’s a storm blowing in.
The temperature has dropped to 42 degrees and the trees with their little green buds are swishing to and fro like an angry maid’s broom.
I can hear the wind coming up, and every once in a while, the fireplace howls.
It’s twilight now, and I saw a couple pass our house walking their dogs. They were wearing winter stocking caps (the couple, not the dogs).
Yesterday, the high was 62.
Isn’t it strange how quickly things change?