I slept through most of the sunshine today. I'd only been awake for an hour or so before the clouds returned, and a fog bank began creeping up the ridge. The fog had swallowed the line of pines beyond the orchard by dusk. There was no visible sunset. The surprising thing is that, about that time, the cricket across the street began chirping. After weeks of cricketless evenings, I was sure the insect was dead, but the mild day has aroused it from its torpor, and the evening was filled with soft song. Coupled with the gentle air and the flowers which continue to bloom along the fence, it made me feel as though late summer had returned, and I kept taking the hour for later than it was. Now I have a sudden craving for iced tea. Odd, how fragments of summer can show up in winter, but winter never makes an appearance to relieve a hot summer day.