I noticed that one of the small ponderosas beyond the back fence is now almost dead. It still has green needles at the top, and a few on a couple of the lower branches, but everything in between is either naked or sports no more than a handful of dead needles that are closer in shade to gray than to the lovely coppery-brown that is characteristic of dried needles about to be shed by healthy pines. I'm expecting that unless the tree is cut down fairly soon, it's likely to be brought down by a strong wind sometime this winter or spring. I hope it falls the other direction and not across our aging back fence- although if the tree doesn't fall this way and take out the fence it's likely that the fence will just fall apart on its own. Lots of things around here are falling apart. That makes around here pretty much like everywhere else.
Among the things falling apart in the rest of the world is the story that you can relieve the pain of jellyfish stings by having somebody take a leak on them. Scientific American: Fact or Fiction?: Urinating on a Jellyfish Sting is an Effective Treatment
It worked for Monica on Friends, but how does the alleged remedy hold up under scientific scrutiny? Well, I'll bet that news is going to destroy a goatload of fantasies, not to mention the credibility of the late sitcom "Friends" as a source of sound medical advice. (Oh, and screw Scientific American's asinine falling-apart linkage system. I keep forgetting not to link to them anymore and then I end up repairing the bad links I've made.)
Unless the clouds decide to come back tonight I won't be watching them drift about washed with moonlight. However, the air currently has a certain dank odor, so it might turn out that the lowland fogs will be rising up the mountains tonight as they sometimes do this time of year. A nice winter fog would be almost as good as the aerial spectacle of moonlit clouds. If neither of those things happens, then it'll be a few minutes shivering under the winter-bright moon now and then until I'm forced to rush back indoors and let my numb ears thaw. Or maybe I'll just nap.