Mood: hug me
Topic: "Twisted Sister" (4)
It is no secret that the Shire has been victimized by juvenile hispanic weather systems for many months. Frodo's motorcars no longer sparkle like the morning dew, and budding azaleas have no more promise than the boxwoods which never bloom. This is, however, the wettest time of the year, and early season thunderstorms do rumble through with increasing frequency. Nature has a clarion call for the coming Spring, and her violent light-show portends freight-train like descriptions from every trailer park between Nebraska and Florida. The inhabitants of the Shire are not immune to the ominous barometric pressure fluctuations which alter their behavior.
Fiona, hereby dubbed as fearless, exceeds 70 years in non-canine measurement. In all that time, she has never seemed to notice that thunder rolls and lightning flashes, that is, until this year. Now, when storms threaten, be they mid-afternoon or midnight, she ambles into the downstairs and out the dog-door to first stand under the porch and observe Nature and her handiwork. She waddles then out into the storm in order to lie beneath her favorite bush in the gardens of the Shire. Here she is soaked by falling rain, but appears secure in the knowledge that she can see what the hell is going on from friendly turf.
Frodo long ago noted that there is a weather trench that blows on a northeasterly track just to the west of the Shire. In recent years, Frodo has noted an increased tendency for the devil-filled whirlwinds to travel outside the trench and traverse even closer to the Shire. Perhaps Fiona, the Fearless, has noted the same.
Frodo has spared no expense in removing the dreaded yellow pine trees from the Gardens of the Shire. There are few threats, other than a direct hit, which should be of concern to the residents of the Shire. Frodo and Sam have marked secure locations, near the dog-door, on the bottom floor, where all would gather whenever the sirens cry warning. The spot is close to the bush where Fiona, the Fearless, has staked her claim.
Science sometimes merely confirms the obvious.
There is an old saying in the political circles of those who are drenched by Potomac Fever. "If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog." Sage advice dear reader, sage advice.