It was much like "The Field Of Dreams" (1989, Kevin Costner, Amy Madigan, James Earl Jones). Having just written about the lack of blue skies, yesterday, while not exactly blue, the sky was a much lighter tan with a hint, a tinge, of what might be behind the smoke. And it was a few degrees cooler. In other words, almost pleasant. It gives one hope.
There wasn't a lot of traffic going and coming yesterday. Don't laugh, you city dwellers, up here fifteen cars on the twenty-five-mile road to town constitutes rush-hour traffic. I had more stops to make than usual, but one was Michael's favorite pit stop. Although he had taken advantage of everywhere else, that was the one where he put forth his best efforts. I had to laugh, just before heading home the best he could manage was a few drops. The first thing I did when we got back to the house was fill his water bowl so he could replenish his empty tank.
Poor Michael. I've mentioned that we both have drippy noses. He has always had wheezes and sneezes, but it's even worse now. He's asleep on the bed behind me and his breathing sounds like air escaping from a balloon. It's a wonder he doesn't wake himself up with the snoring.
Blue skies, smiling on me. Hey, it's worth a try.
Stay safe. Be well.
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