In the time it took me to write that last sentence, the blue sky got gobbled up. Now, all I can see is the roof of the coming storm. In a few minutes, it's going to be dark. Really dark. This is the kind of evening in the Upper Peninsula that signals the end and the beginning.
The end of the 80-degree October days with maple trees so red and orange they look impossible.
The beginning of the 20-degree October days with green and white existing side-by-side, both stubborn, refusing to say "uncle!"
Saint Marty's just going to sit in his dark office and watch until nightfall.
|I'm not ready for this yet|