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Fields around are yellowing into harvest
Sep. 6th, 2006 11:59 am
High today, here: 23. Dewpoint then: 15. High dewpoint: 16.
High today in TO: 23. Dewpoint then: 16. High dewpoint: 16.
( Week o' Weather )
You know summer ain't coming back when you step outside and it feels warm and it's 23 degrees. One on the plus side for late summer: squash are becoming cheap and plentiful, again. This feels like close to where we came in, but we're always coming in, going out and coming in. The streets are full of kids again. You'd think, if you didn't pay attention, that one of the functions of school is to keep kids off the streets, but actually, when school isn't pulling the kids out into the streets, they pretty much disappear.
Back to the top of the slide: when we left off, I was just about to begin, and most likely end (barring the improbable fruition of my long-time dream of opening a 24-hour Gothic Café, Bookstore, & Discothèque), my career as a superstar DJ. And then, Montréal, for a quintessentially Canadian bilingual wedding, complete with singing--surprising, for some reason--of an anglo Montrealer's song. I just wish I'd brushed up on the lyrics to "Gens du pays". And finally, late-night woogie vigil, ending with Mr. Woogie hopping in the back door to take a bath. Along the the way, intermittent Ernesto, fittingly French hotel clerk in the ghetto, pad thai in lieu of Vietnamese soup, and tri-annual ritual APA rejection, for flavour.
High today in TO: 23. Dewpoint then: 16. High dewpoint: 16.
( Week o' Weather )
You know summer ain't coming back when you step outside and it feels warm and it's 23 degrees. One on the plus side for late summer: squash are becoming cheap and plentiful, again. This feels like close to where we came in, but we're always coming in, going out and coming in. The streets are full of kids again. You'd think, if you didn't pay attention, that one of the functions of school is to keep kids off the streets, but actually, when school isn't pulling the kids out into the streets, they pretty much disappear.
Back to the top of the slide: when we left off, I was just about to begin, and most likely end (barring the improbable fruition of my long-time dream of opening a 24-hour Gothic Café, Bookstore, & Discothèque), my career as a superstar DJ. And then, Montréal, for a quintessentially Canadian bilingual wedding, complete with singing--surprising, for some reason--of an anglo Montrealer's song. I just wish I'd brushed up on the lyrics to "Gens du pays". And finally, late-night woogie vigil, ending with Mr. Woogie hopping in the back door to take a bath. Along the the way, intermittent Ernesto, fittingly French hotel clerk in the ghetto, pad thai in lieu of Vietnamese soup, and tri-annual ritual APA rejection, for flavour.
