Some years ago, a road was punched through the woods above us, shrinking both the forest and the number of moose hanging out in our neighborhood.
To our surprise, Fred Meyer’s had green chiles from Hatch, New Mexico for sale this year. I walked by them drooling like Pavlov’s dog a couple of times before it hit me that I should lay in a supply. Rose and Andy agreed.
At 11:00 PM I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to check the weather report to see if it would freeze during the night. So I put down my book in the middle of a riveting piece about fourteenth-century book production and sales at French universities (great bedtime reading), and dialed the National Weather Service. As the recorded voice droned on, I reminded myself that it had been 33 degrees here on the past two mornings.
And the recorded voice told me in no uncertain terms that we were done flirting with a frost; it was going to happen.