Received a card that said: "To get this Valentine, I had to leave the house and interact with people."

It occurred to me the other night that during the last four years I've managed to turn feral without ever leaving my home.  Perhaps I should frame it as having started my own convent.  We're Birdhists around here.

Picture it.  Dawn, with a cold wind..  Black "clouds like inky shrouds" spread over the rising sun.  A long gash in the clouds through which a livid orange light shone.  A bird wailing off in the distance. It was so very Halloween.

Except I was sitting in a grocery store parking lot.

Ever since the pandemic started I've been shopping as soon as the stores open and most of the germy people are still at home in their beds.  This is fun from May through July when it's light outside and the dawn chorus is singing the songs of their people.  It's less fun now, although I give nature full marks for the impromptu Halloween card.

A big ol' thunderstorm rolled through here around 6:00 this morning, dropping temperatures into the 60's.  This was a welcome relief.  The forecast is calling for a high near 100 this afternoon after an overnight low in the upper 70s, which isn't enough to cool down the house at night.

Old folks like me grew up before air conditioning was common in people's homes.  In summer my mother got up around 5:00 AM and opened up all of the windows - and by mid-morning when the sun was up and temperatures rising she'd shut the windows and close the blinds and drapes.  A reasonably well-insulated house would stay reasonably comfortable until late afternoon, after which we'd spritz ourselves with water and hang around close to a fan.

Old habits die hard. and here at The Casa Chez Nous I'm also up early and throwing open all of the windows even though The Casa has central air - unless it's in the upper 70s, because why bother, or there's a storm in progress.  It looks like this morning's storms are coming back for another round, so that's it for my planned mosey.   (If the lightning would stop, I may channel my inner 10-year-old and go splashing barefoot through puddles and scandalize the HOA.  We called this "making our own fun" back in the day, and it is not to be scoffed at.  Maturity is overrated.)

Sunny, temps in the upper 60s, forecast calling for yet another round of severe weather ahead of yet aother cold front.  Signs that we've had too much rain: the grass is bright green instead of its normal August brown.  For those of us who enjoy the heat, this summer has been a disappointment.  I've gotten into the "spirit" of things and pulled out my Halloween t-shirts, since the only time I can comfortably wear them is when the weather is being an idiot - October is nearly always too cold.

One of the exciting things about living near all kinds of wildlife is that you occasionally come across things that get your heart racing.  I was strolling around the "Olde Folkes' Homes" earlier today when I spotted something unusual by the lake and headed over to take a look.  What first had looked like a large rock was actually a large. grey, hunched, furry back.  "Oh," thinks I to myself, "too small to be a werewolf, maybe a coyote".  "Not moving but on its feet with its head down," thinks I to myself.  "Unusual behavior," I further muse, "could be a sign of illness".  Yours truly was batting a thousand at this point.  Since I have no desire to experience the new rabies vaccines that are said to be less awful than the old ones, and thus verify the claim for myself, I sidled at top speed away from the area, keeping my eye on the furry lump lest it move and I'd have to vault onto the top of the nearest big-ass pickup truck.

I'm happy to report that I made it home without any big-ass vaulting or further encounters of the alarming kind.

A sidle is just a full throttle and quiet mosey: an important skill for many animals, including biddies and witches. 

While parts of the country (and world) have been sweltering in excessive heat, other parts such as mine have been experiencing a cooler and wetter summer.  Those of us who feel that it's not summer unless we're stewing in our own juices have been somewhat miffed.

But miffed no longer: the heat dome is about to arrive.  From barely making it into the 80s we're heading straight for the mid- to upper-90s, and I celebrated this morning by hitting the grocery store's ice cream aisle.  Later I'll scrub out a large water dish that will sit in the large planter out front and provide water for the birds who like to hang out around there, since the forecast isn't calling for much of a chance of rain.  

Speaking of birds, there appears to be a small family of hawks hanging around in the trees where I like to walk.  This is unusual - I've never known hawks to nest that close to humans and definitely not in an area where there are houses, walking trails, and a school.  Raptors like to keep us guessing, I s'pose...

I also passed more than two dozen geese moseying along toward a nearby pond, with a few smaller groups flying in to join them.  I haven't heard much recent news about Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, but I assume it's not gone - and since the geese and ducks are wandering around now in large numbers, I'll have to be extra vigilant about disinfecting my walking shoes.

Or just throw them out.  These shoes have been doing extra duty all through the pandemic, and after nearly four years of regular use they've about had it.  Of course I'll have to replace them, which means either taking my life into my own hands and visiting DSW in person or else taking a chance on buying shoes online.  Shoes are among the few items that I want to really fit, so 'tis a dilemma.