Is the weather strange anywhere else?
It appears that you all might need sweaters when you go to Florence this weekend for the annual Labor Day extravaganza. I keep hearing on the news and reading in the Wichita paper that temperatures are going to plummet toward the end of the week. Wouldn't that be fine?
I hope you all saved the Florence Labor Day celebration flyer that was inserted in last week's paper. There certainly is something for everyone over there this weekend.
If you are a fan of live musical presentations, you probably ought to rent a room at the motel. Seems there are more songfests scheduled than any one little community ought to have. And many other events and activities are on tap for all three days. See you there! (I'll be the one in the sweater.)
The strangest thing happened in the backyard of Jackrabbit Hollow Saturday afternoon. I had gone in to the paper office to check the e-mail and fax machine and noticed that the plants scattered about the yard were in dire need of water.
I had promised the Chief Jackrabbit, Pam Lamborn, that I would drag the hose out back and take care of them while she was at a niece's wedding, but toward the end of the week I forgot.
So I hustled myself into my gardening mode and began spraying everything in sight that was not a weed.
A dark cloud crawled across the sun. I kept watering, it got a little darker, and suddenly I heard this strange "splatting" noise to my left. Rain? No such luck.
The dust on my car was undisturbed, no sign of any raindrops. I returned to my watering, heard it again, and looked at her car parked under one of those plastic canopies.
Lo and behold, it was raining on the canopy and everything to the south, but not on my car which was barely two feet away. Now how weird is that? I just kept hosing down the plants. Who am I to jinx a shower by shutting off the hose?
We actually ended up with a nice little hour-long rain that did little to assuage the drought, but made us hopeful for awhile. The next day it was hot and steamy once again. How does that jingle go? "Ah-h-h-hh-h-h-h-h, Kansas!"
You know what is going to happen, don't you? (Hint: the state fair and the Winfield Blue Grass Festival are right around the corner.) We are going to go from triple digit suffocating sweat-laden summer right into the dead of winter in less than two weeks.
Mark my words. Take that sweater to the Labor Day parade. You are going to need it. But don't pack away your shorts and sandals yet
— SUSAN MARSHALL
