Front Coming.

This might be it. There's a little burst of something headed our way out of the north and west — not the south and west, this time — and back behind that are sixties and forties, not sixties and eighties. I enjoyed this. I did. Don't get me wrong. But I'm ready for heavier shirts. I'll take it.

Tomorrow's a planting day: We've got the five flats of prison farm pansies still sitting in the driveway, and we're headed for 24292 for Fall Break on Saturday, so they've got to go in the ground. Seems like every year I end up planting bulbs and pansies on a chilly gray mudder of a day. Hell, I'll take that, too. It's the romantic in me. Or the sap. The something.

Forecast to get good and chilly here over the weekend, so let's say good and good and chilly for the New River Valley and west, as they say on WVTW. I love tuning in to 89.1 down here and getting the forecast for Independence and Marion and Whitetop and Mt. Rogers all year long. Always five or ten degrees colder. Always the looming threat of some impressive fog or sleet or snow. Always the reminder that if you can hear the forecast, you can't be that far away.

Oh, place. Good god.