Half-Ton.

The official ANYLF pickup: half-ton. Tonnage of compost brought back this noon from the TLK High Point Soil Extravaganza: .9 tons. For those of you scoring at home, that's .4 tons more than the truck is meant to carry. Or, ah, 800 pounds. Like ye olde gorilla. Driving home was like driving on ice: Put a ton of weight on a half-ton rear-wheel drive situation, particularly a situation where your front wheels are your steering wheels, and you'll find that the steering is no longer the first thing that comes to the situation's mind.

We warmed this afternoon to a true windows-down temperature. We cool right back off again the rest of the week, and we cloud over, too, just to keep in check those of us who thought winter might have come and gone, those of us who all afternoon planted daylilies and whatnot, those of us who've, oh, I don't know, overtonned our pickups of late, those of us who got all excited and brought home all that gorgeous black dirt.

Chilly weather coming. Rain and storms. One more chance—if not the last—to wear the winter hats. And it's good: there's inside work to be done. One needs to sit at the desk a while, and not just dig holes in the ground. One needs coffee and cold rain and revision. One needs to know clear and well what sort of asswipe that makes one sound like. Still: One will drink some coffee in the cold rain, OK? And one will not say one's sorry about it. Hey, pronouns.

Last late local conditions: Still warm. Train. Steeple visible from everywhere: The trees haven't leafed out yet. Which is exactly where we are: The trees have not yet leafed out.