
On a sunny spring day

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall




A local beekeeper group reports that 47 percent of its members’ hives died off over the winter, something largely blamed on a virus I’m dubbing Cobeed-18.
Alas, ours was one of the ones that didn’t make.
Uncertainties over the human Covid-19 outbreak, meanwhile, puts repopulating the hives in question. New colonies are trucked north from the Deep South, and who knows how long before things in that regard are back to normal.
Everything’s up in the air, except that some things aren’t.




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In my novel Nearly Canaan, their neighbor Todd is a geologist. You know, a rocks guy. The Ozarks is where he and his wife Lucy meet Joshua and Jaya.
The place is a mineral-rich geological wonder.
Here’s part of the attraction he’d have where they are in Arkansas.
~*~
~*~
What do you know about rocks?
Here I am, running errands around town, realize I’m driving with my car window rolled down, the temperature is 56 degrees, Fahrenheit, and it’s still February. Look, the reading was only 20 degrees this morning, and the frost was heavy. Still, having the window open feels natural, and the fresh air’s wonderful.
At the next stoplight, I look around and realize half of the other drivers also have their car windows open. Makes me think of the joke about how the drivers in Florida would all have their heat turned on if it was ten degrees warmer than here.
As I move on, I start wondering about the drivers who still have their windows rolled up. Is it because they have their air conditioning on?
We still have March and the potential for some heavy snowfall ahead.