It’s the coast of Maine. It’s December already. Why are plants and insects beginning to think it’s May?
Some years, May is colder than this.
This morning I walked to the post office with dog Gracie and her buddy Cairn, who is on loan for a few days, and we spotted a dandelion alongside the road. Other ones, gone to seed, stood next to it. Walking at the speed of two old dogs, I noticed a lot more on the way home and picked a small bouquet from various people’s lawns (they’re summer people and this is supposed to be winter, so they’re not here). A hornet, though a bit sluggish, nuzzled the nectar in one of them.
At 50 degrees outside I felt foolish wearing winter gloves, but once out there it’s easier to keep them on than to carry them, and the bright blue came in handy to contrast the dandelions in the photo.
There is no global warming. And the earth is flat.