A cold night.
Doc, a lively old woman, preacher and professor who lives next door, covered her flowers last night with bed sheets - protection, no doubt, from the chilly air. I suspect the temperature dropped somewhere between 35 and 45 degrees Fahrenheit.
From a couch on my porch, I looked for my breath in the early morning air, but as the sun had not yet begun to rise, I could not see it. Later, I awoke and looked northwest. The sky was pastel purple and the clouds were pink. The horizon was orange.
The coldest part of the day is early morning, just before the sun rises.
There are deep hollows among the hills that are untouched by the sun's rays until mid-morning. As I ride through these on my bike, I feel the cold air sitting as if heavy, and I see the dew holding onto blades of grass. When the sun touches the grass, the cold dissipates.
From a couch on my porch, I looked for my breath in the early morning air, but as the sun had not yet begun to rise, I could not see it. Later, I awoke and looked northwest. The sky was pastel purple and the clouds were pink. The horizon was orange.
The coldest part of the day is early morning, just before the sun rises.
There are deep hollows among the hills that are untouched by the sun's rays until mid-morning. As I ride through these on my bike, I feel the cold air sitting as if heavy, and I see the dew holding onto blades of grass. When the sun touches the grass, the cold dissipates.
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