Last night, as we watched a Netflix movie, Walker, our five month old GoldenDoodle came into the room chewing on a rawhide bone. He jumped up on the sofa, and just the way he was looking at me made me think he resembled Kath's dad, whom we called Gramps. I mentioned this to Kath, and soon we were both rolling on the floor laughing. Here's a pictorial comparison. In case you can't tell, the first pic is of Gramps, the second and third of Walker.
I texted the pictures of Walker to our kids, Al and Barb, and they howled also at how much Walker reminded us of how Gramps looked, particularly when he was in a playful mood, with that cigar hanging out of his mouth. So this morning I even captured the event with a haiku.
father-in-law with cigar —
he would have loved this
It has continued hot here for the past weeks, and almost every night there are pictures of the dried up crops out on the plains, corn, soy, wheat, alfalfa, hay. Most of Colorado is in severe drought. The ranchers in Wyoming and Colorado are selling off their cattle at extremely low prices because their pastures are dried up and hay is scarce and costs too much. We've had a few thunderstorms this week as the summer monsoonal flow has brought some moisture. Unfortunately, the flow is from the southwest, coming over the mountains, where most of the moisture is squeezed out of it as it climbs the higher peaks.
Prices will be high in the fall and on into winter. We've got to start recognizing that climate change, no matter what the cause, will require lots of changes on our part. If we ignore it, we'll have lots of sand to bury our collective heads in.
I was hoping to write on the patio this summer, but it has been so hot I have to move indoors before lunch, so I've just kept my work area at the dining room table. We have a swamp cooler that keeps the house cool during the hot part of the day, so I don't notice the heat. Surely there's a poem in all that heat and devastation of the crops.