The weather continues to provide compensation for its wretched behavior earlier in the year. Does it lull me into inattention, that it might later betray me? I can see how easy it must have been for various cultures to anthropomorphize this natural force. It behaves so like some god modeled on a mercurial human personality. Right now, it playfully nibbles my ear, and I want to nuzzle it. Next week it could turn on me and again display a burning rage. Eventually, it's bound to turn icy. I love it anyway, even when I hate it.
Something else, I forget what.