We were discussing the weather today. There’s a rumor that there’s a chance for snow Friday night.

I don’t consider this a big deal. We’re pretty much north of the Arctic circle here, at least in spirit and daylight hours. Talk turned to how the average first frost is September 6th, which I also don’t consider a big deal. Growing season is Memorial Day to Labor Day, since I was a little bitty girl.

Our first trip up here to look at the farm was on a September 19th. There was snow in the gullies then, so any day past September 19th without snow is one in the win column, as far as I’m concerned. The person I was talking to called me an optimist. I hope that rumor doesn’t spread too far.

I like puppies too, by the way. I blame Pollyanna, and all those weird dresses. I can really belt out, “The sun will come up tomorrow…” when provoked. Serendipitously, “optimist” is also a small dinghy. Put an oar in the water and take away what you will.