I'm willfully guillible. When told something that either interests or tickles me, I tend to repeat it as gospel. To wit: years ago, I was told that when more than half the cows in a field are lying down, it is likely to rain.
I was once again all set to complain about the high humidity leading to miserable outdoor work conditions. Then there was an article in The New York Times on Tuesday about the Bootleg wildfire in Oregon. It is so large that it is creating its own weather.
Violet and her friend Cesca went out to western Massachusetts last week for their fist camping trip without family. The first and only night in the tent saw four inches of rain and lightning.
I know I mentioned Kousa dogwoods last week but it bears repeating as there is another beauty, both pink and white, at the bottom of the hill at Abel's Hill Cemetery.