A balmy 15 degrees of Fahrenheit this morning, and being Friday trash collection day your correspondent slipped into his sun dress to venture toward the end of the lane. The Artist has been popping in and out, she's been to town, she's been to the mail, there's milk and Orange Juice, and her reports have been suspiciously glowing.
True I've been staring at the lane for some weeks now, thinking about a little
adventure and I guess I'd been lulled into picturing the world beyond as a sort
of November with a little snow around and maybe some icy spots. Well I'm here to
tell you it's not like that at all. We're talking somewhere like Baffin Island
without the charm.