Come Hell or High Water...

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Good morning.

As rain pelts down two hours before sunrise, I’ve decided to call this the Western Winter that Was—actually winter.

On our previous four marathon road trips, I’ve often laughed at the insane spring-summer warmth and dry weather. Rarely have we contended with storms of any kind. But I’ve become an inveterate weather watcher by necessity in 2023.

A gypsy friend used to joke that she saw to it that we traveled nearly always under glorious blue skies. Perhaps I’ll call today and ask what we did to offend her.