It was cloudy all day Monday, but when we left the hospital that night, it was clear. Not much cooler, but clear enough. The sidewalk was wet and the street looked black and slick. The gravel in our driveway was dark, and water was dripping from the metal roof. It’s easy to understand why people say that dew falls, because the areas under the trees were dry, as if the dew had not fallen through the pine needles. But, of course, dew doesn’t really fall, it condenses on surfaces that have a clear view of the sky. To the infrared eyes of the Earth, a clear night sky is a very cold thing, so the surfaces loses its heat quickly and the moisture in the air condenses on the now-cold surface.
Tuesday morning was still warm. Fog hid everything below the mountain, but we were clear, at least until I took the dogs for a walk.
There was a little fog here and there, but it was mostly clear.
Lucy, my mother’s little dog, accompanied Zeke and me. We call her Lucy, Lulu, Lucille, or sometimes Lucifer, but she’s not really a bad dog at all. She has been a true friend and companion for my mother for probably 10 years. We started encouraging Mother to get a dog for company soon after my father died, and eventually she gave in. It’s a funny thing to watch, if you know my mother. She was never a dog person. All our childhood pets had to stay outside, and she never did much more than touch their heads with her fingertips. And now Lucy sleeps on her bed, tucked right up against her back. And she lies on Mother’s lap when Mother reclines and watches NCIS reruns.
Lucy is staying with us until Mother goes home. And then Lucy will go back home with her and keep her back warm until the end.