It was almost 80 degrees on Monday -- and not yet spring.
As Charlie and I stood in the front yard awaiting Jim, I chatted with our next door neighbor. She declared that the weather has been strange since Hurricane Irene and I think she's onto something.
Charlie is still wearing his long pants and sweatshirts, not yet ready to shed those winters. Perhaps that was why he was so unsettled -- frowning, making sounds of distress and worry -- as the evening wore on and after a walk and his habitual bike ride. I could put out shorts for him but it is only mid-March, just past those fateful Ides.