In Dallas on Friday, it was a balmy 74 degrees. Beautiful sunny day -- I drove to and from work with the convertible top down. I had an entire weekend of gardening planned.
Then the weather guys started saying things like, "cold front," "wintry mix," and "gusty winds." While my neighbors across the street had a front yard picnic, I dutifully covered my freshly planted herb plants with burlap. "What are you doing over there?" my neighbors shouted. "Preparing for the storm," I replied. I walked across the street to chat. Rolled my eyes about overly dramatic weathermen, expressed my doubt, but said I couldn't take any chances with my recent financial investment and labor from the week before.
Friday night we had the type of rains where you contemplate building an ark. Still, it was only rain. Sunday morning I opened my curtains, and this is what I saw! I was SHOCKED. I mean -- SHOCKED!
Greta bounded out into the yard gleefully, the first time. The second time I opened the back door for her, she stood firmly planted INSIDE and just looked out. And then backed up. Yep, that's my girl.
I built a fire even before I brewed coffee. And I kept that fire burning until I went to bed. Ironically, I had added a lot of green wood to my fire wood rack last week -- on top. Never dreamt I would need to get to the seasoned wood again this year. Remember the game, "Pixie Sticks?" (Or was it just Pick Up Sticks?) Regardless, that's the game I played multiple times yesterday in front of the wood rack. Carefully wiggling logs back and forth to ease them out of the middle of the stack without the whole thing tumbling down. I'm not going to lie - it was strategic. But I was desperate. In my (wet) socks and flip flops.
Today it's blue skies and sun. The snow is gone, and I wore a short sleeved dress and sandals to work. I suspect I will drive home with the convertible top down -- it's supposed to be 66 today, and 75 tomorrow. Ah yes. Welcome to Texas.
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