...come late this year.

The darker the color the higher the wind.

The Edmund Fitzgerald sank on November 10 (1975).

So...We are at the clinic in Janesville for annual checkups. Sue is in first. Therefore Pax and I have a long walk on a path high above the Rock River, waiting our turn. At the appointed time, I let Pax back into the car and head in to the appointment. And, a few minutes later, right about the time I'm being cuffed, the heavens open up with what sounds like the crack of doom (and I'm not talking about Trump here). How do you keep your blood pressure down when you know your dog is freaking out?

Looking at the wind map, I do believe there may be enough to finally strip the leaves from Vi's pear tree, which will, in turn, allow me to do my fall gutter clearing.