The hum and drone of the cicadas rose and fell in unison, like waves on the ocean.  Their song lulled the landscape to sleep like a midsummer’s night lullaby, exhausted and spent from her good and decent work. Mid Summer, often, has an unkempt, woeful look, but the constant heat and…

  Brittle like parchment, the arctic air sliced through the landscape with little resistance as it slashed and gnawed at flesh like a hungry, rabid beast.  It was fit for no creature, great nor small.  Experts call it a polar vortex.  We call it Winter.     So as we skirt into 2018, bright, shiny,…

The air had yet to be polluted and remained fairly clear and buoyant up until today.   Soon the crushing heft of humidity would contaminate the atmosphere, leaving us in a haze of scorching torridness and malaise, wilted and soulless.  I hate Summer. The sad thing is, it’s not even Summer yet.  We have exactly…