Lazy-Hazy Day

"Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer" (1963, Nat King Cole), was the song of the day yesterday.  Sunrise was almost obscured by smoke from the Ferguson fire.  This shot, taken toward the east just before 8 a.m., tells the story pretty well.  Those aren't clouds in the sky.  It hurts to breathe when it's like this, and doesn't take much exercise to get me panting like Bess.  In addition, someone cranked up the thermostat again, thus the "lazy" and "hazy."  ("Crazy" is a chronic condition.)

It's always such a nice surprise to find Missy in the barn, and even better when she comes to meet me on the path as she did yesterday.  This tiny companion supervises as I get set up for the girls, then leads the way back to her room for breakfast.  She is such a welcome addition to the menagerie.

Clay is a dedicated NASCAR fan, so much so that he was in Loudon, New New Hampshire, for the race yesterday.  While I was sweltering here, Clay was sitting out a several-hour rain delay back east.  Go figure.  Bowyer had bad luck, but Jimmie Johnson, Clay's driver, finished in the top ten.

Any excuse to delay a trip to town is a good one.  Can I go one more day without such-and-such?  If at all possible, I'll put it off.  Today is the day, however.  Drat.