Changes in Latitude

There's only 26 degrees of difference in latitude between Oranjestad, Aruba and Lewes, DE, but for each of those 26 lines of latitude the temperature had dropped three degrees. In only six hours I had gone from 88 degrees of warmth to 28 degrees of cold.

My body was in such total shock that I didn't fully recognize the impact of the climate change until I found my shivering so uncontrolled that I couldn't get the key into the the lock on the front door of my house.

Run Away! Run Away! my mind commanded. Back to the airport quickly, pawn your car when you get there, buy a ticket, get back to that 12th degree of latitude.

I would have turned on my heels except that just then the key slid home, the lock clicked open, and I raced to pull every blanket I owned out of the closet.

Racing to Thanksgiving

The wind was howling across the fields at 250 mph today.

Well, maybe it was 25 mph.

Multicolored leaves that had been piled for bagging were scattered in all directions. The riot of dried color tumbling across lawns made me think of children racing away from school at the end of the day - backpacks of red, brown, blue, and green bouncing on shoulders as the kids scatter toward all compass points.

I'll be doing my own racing - hurrying off to a vacation that will keep me away from internet, phones, e-mails, and voice mails for a while.

So I'll take this opportunity to wish everyone a HAPPY THANKSGIVING.

Look for a new post on December 1st.

Light Back At 'Ya

It's ironic how just when we need light the most, mother nature befuddles our ingenuity.

Ingenuity is what brought us automobiles with headlights. Those engineering marvels (cars & headlights both) open the world to us at all hours of day and night.

Until mother nature throws her fog ball. Then all bets are off.

Just when we most need a light source to illuminate the road ahead, nature's moisture laden wall bounces the light right back in our faces.

It goes against all reason that, to see further, we need to turn the lights down lower.

Perhaps this is the universe's hint to us that we all need to slow down.

Maybe true success comes at a slower pace.

Swipe Only

Has it really come to this?

I made a quick stop into the grocery store to pick up just two items totaling $6.25.

When I attempted to hand the cashier a twenty dollar bill, she gestured at the card reader and said "you can swipe your card right there".

Thinking she was asking me to swipe my "preferred shopper" card I pointed out she had already scanned the card.

No, she said, your debit or credit card. You can swipe it right there.

But I'm paying cash, I said.

The cashier rolled her eyes - and spent nearly 3 minutes figuring out the change.

Book in a Nook

Motivated Mom has been hooked by a nook.

I know what you're saying
I know what you think.
A nook is a small space
So how does a nook hook?

A nook is where you would go
To hide from a crook.
A nook is a place where
You might keep a book.

And indeed there are books
kept in this nook
This nook that hooked someone
Who is not a crook.

But the books in this nook,
They are different you see
These books - well -
They're words displayed on a screen.

It is, I fear, a most unnatural thing
Perhaps this nook should be buried in a sack
It is sacrilege, say I,
For a book to have no front and no back.

Look... Up In The Sky...

Either I had taken a wrong turn onto a life-size Hollywood filming location, I was witnessing a full scale alien invasion, or an astonishing number of comets were plunging into Earth's atmosphere.

Because surely seven commercial airliners wouldn't be packed into such a small section of sky.

I was on my way home from work when, rounding a bend, I found myself staring at a golden sky with seven white streaks etched diagonally downward.

Quickly calculating the possibility that seven airliners would be descending at the same rate at the same time, I came up with something like seven hundred thousand to one. Which meant the white streaks almost certainly couldn't be vapor trails from aircraft as I know them.

Another bend in the road took the atmosphere insurgents out of view. Out of sight was not out of mind in this case and I continued to ponder the unusual display.

It was a mere twenty minutes later when, from an opposite direction, an Air Force C-7 came into view with all of it's forward lights blazing.

Which left me convinced what I had seen earlier was in fact an alien incursion.

Veteran Thanks

I had planned a poetic tribute to U.S. veterans, but a foggy brain prevents melodic verse.

So let me simply say THANK YOU not only to past members of the armed forces but those currently serving as well.

Sparrow Steed

The sparrow was barely taller than the surrounding blades of grass.

The only reason I even noticed the bird was the brilliant purple feathering on its back. With such coloring, the bird would have made the ideal steed for a prince of fairie. I could almost imagine an elegantly outfitted leader nestled into the crook between the sparrow's neck and back.

With a wave of a toothpick sized sword, his royal highness would encourage his loyal subjects to follow as the bird blazed a trail to the nearest tree. A tree where the fairies could climb to harvest sections of fruits not yet fallen, or dig between roots to carve out homesteads.

Reflectors and Radiators

You've probably seen them - those silver sun shades that fit in the windshield of a car. Not only do they block the sun, but they reflect the sun's heating energy.

I saw a car outfitted with one of these reflecting shades today and the first thought to go through my mind was... why?

Why, at a time of year when folks are waking to frost on their windshields, would someone want to block the sun?

A car can serve as a great collector of solar heat - and in November through March I want my car to collect as much heat as possible.

When dried leaves are being twirled into the air by dirt devils and clouds are being whipped across the sky by chilling air, I want to crawl inside of a radiator.

For folks in the northern half of the country, it's definitely time to put those sun shades away.

Which Way to Go?

To say it was a flock of birds wouldn't do it justice. Birds of a size somewhere between a sparrow and a crow were swarming across the sky.

I couldn't blame them. With the onset of colder weather they were no doubt anxious to head.... North?

Could it be? They were actually heading to colder climes? A quick look around to get my bearings confirmed they were doing just that.

That is until a large section of the migrating birds broke ranks and doubled back.

Then a smaller group of the southbound birds broke ranks to zero back in on the main mass.

Only to have the new leader of the primary swarm turn south.

It had to be a case of back flock driver's, I decided.

Turn here... No, don't listen to him, turn here... What are you doing? Those guys don't know where they're going. Turn up there.

The swarm had turned into a spinning cyclone before they drifted from view. I can only hope level heads prevailed and got the migration back on a southerly track.

Where's the Standard?

Time is relative. And now that we're back on standard time, the animals we care for are relatively confused.

There's a large number of humans who complain of being out of synch for weeks after the clocks change, but it's just as hard on animals.

Cats, dogs, cows, horses... none of them track time by watches or clocks. They all rely on the cycles of nature. Sunrise, sunset, and the gradients of light occurring between are what govern the animals of the world. When the arrival of meals, the opening of gates, and the lighting of barns suddenly change in relation to nature's glowing orb, animals are left to ponder the cosmic shift in their worlds.

As for me, I found myself fixing lunch at sunrise and dinner at high noon.

It's now been dark for over three hours and I'm trying to figure out if it's yesterday, today, or tomorrow.

Zig Zag

It's no wonder squirrels need to bury so many nuts - they burn energy faster than they can eat.

This realization hit me as I watched a squirrel leap from the leaves in the tree line at the back of my property and zig-zag its way across my back yard. The critter traveled three hundred feet by the time it reached the patio that was seventy-five feet from the trees.

At every hairpin turn in its course the squirrel would paw at the ground - presumably to bury a another acorn. Come winter, if that squirrel can find each cache, I'm going to forgo a GPS for my car and strap a squirrel to the dashboard.

Like the squirrel, I'm now off for a couple days of travel that will take me in a zig zag course across the state.

Look for my next post on Sunday, November 7.

Shadow Temperature

Who needs a thermometer when we have shadows?

As I studied the shadows through the window this afternoon I found myself turning up the collar of my sweater. Although I was in a warm building, the combination of colored leaves and lengthening shadows triggered an unconscious shiver. It had to be chilly outside - and it was.

Shadows of the same length on a August afternoon would have told of a welcome lessening of heat if not humidity.

But somehow the shadows of post-summer have a more significant impact. The angle of sunlight is different and holds less promise of warmth. The combination of late-year sun and elongated shadows tells of a need to wrap up just as surely as mercury dropping in a thermometer.