The gray skies are going away, and that means the thermometer will creep past sixty here on the porch for the first time in a while.
The downside is that the clouds are kinda like Baby Gaia's blanket, and when they go away it's kinds like her bare bottom is exposed to the cold vacuum of space at night. Oh well, at least a hard frost kills bugs.
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Bugs R Ded!
Sing it with me, now-
It's! The! MOST! Wonder-ful! TIIIIME! Of-The-Year!
This means two things for me and mine: 1) I start turning the electric blanket on at night, and 2) my normally hyperactive cat suddenly becomes a LOT more interested in my lap. Not that I'm complaining, mind you ... plus it's like God's giving Al Gore the ol' neener-neener, and that's always fun..
It also means that the damn ragweed has stopped pumping out pollen. Yea! I can breathe again outdoors!
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