I was reading a draft copy of Fred First’s next book this morning. Most of the essays are from his blog Fragments From Floyd, though some have had a more convoluted life of blog post to newspaper column or vice versa.
The last essay in the chapters I was reading/reviewing was all about the pleasures Fred feels as winter fades and the warmth of summer arrives. As I was reading this, on this the twenty fourth day of February, I was listening to the windchimes in my bag yard through the open doors of the kitchen. The temperature outside is pushing 75° and rising. The sun is peaking through the clouds every once and a while as the wind blows in from the Gulf with cool gusts. There is a music podcast playing on the computer as a type, birds are singing outside…I found myself in the oppisite position, wondering what happened to our winter.
Looking on the weather wunderground, I see that Fred is still feeding the woodstove and wearing the multiple layers of clothes he was lamenting in his essay. While I am enjoying the open door and the porch rocker, Fred is still dreaming his summer weather dreams.
You can check out the post I was reading in his archives here…Where the Wx Suits My Clothes.
Now, having visited Fred and seeing the road that passes by his house, I wouldn’t have any qualms about drinking my coffee on the front porch in my underwear either…I would say that he probably hasn’t seen more than one or two people pass by when he was in such a state. My front porch though probably has a thousand or so vehicles pass by on a normal day. It seems strange how the further out in the country I move the more traffic I see drive past my house…
Oh well, grandson number two is telling me I’ve ignored him long enough…gotta run.