A thirty-degree drop in temperature. Seriously? Tank top back to turtleneck. Really? I've given up wondering what is "normal" weather. It's almost July! I gave some thought to mowing down the front yard yesterday, but it was too damp in the morning. By the time the sun came out, the wind had come up and I gave it up. Late in the afternoon, we all went out to pull some weeds by hand. That's when I got the bonus.
Fitzpatrick's, across the way, was throwing a ceilidh, an Irish party! The hills were alive with the sound of music (I must have read that somewhere). I love Celtic music. I defy anyone to hear the fiddle, tin whistle, and bodhran and keep their feet still. I even have my own bodhran, the Celtic frame drum, but never learned to play it well. The cats opted for the house, but Bess and I retreated from the wind to the front porch to sit and listen and enjoy the party in absentia until we were just too cold and had to go in. Still in an Irish mood, I made corned beef hash for dinner.
I overslept this morning. Having removed the comforter from the bed during the heat wave, changing positions in the frigid night was like dipping a foot into an ice bath and I woke up every time I moved. Where was that darned foot-warming cat when I needed him?