Home again, home again, and I have to say that when the pilot on the rickety tiny-plane flight told us that it was 95 degrees (and, I could guess from past experiences, stifling humid) at our destination, I almost ran up to the cockpit and told him to turn around. But no, we had pets who were eagerly awaiting our return (at least, I'd like to think so) and a garden to rescue (from three weeks of uncontrolled week growth) and real lives to which we had to return. Suffice it to say, April and I are back in Rochester and it's hot as blue blazes (as my mother always likes to say). Hot enough that we've been taking Fargo (and, occasionally, Regie) into the yard and spraying him with the hose every few hours. We've been hunkering down in the rooms with window air-conditioning and trying to avoid steamier parts of the house. I know, I shouldn't complain lest the weather-gods frown down upon me and curse us with an unnaturally cruel and long winter (who am I kidding? we'll have that anyway), but I just can't help it.
Enough. No more complaining about the temperature. Some people politely, or not so politely (you know who you are! :P) demanded pictures and stories upon my return and rest assured that I will post a long, photo-filled explication of our journeys over the next few days. I'll also be trying to catch up on correspondence, but that may take me a little longer. Bear with me in the coming days and please, if you have some to spare, can you send a few cool summer breezes my way?
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