Personal Note: Fields where flies no sharp and sided hail

All the weather about which my westerly flist has been (rightly) complaining landed here over the past few days: heat and humidity that buckled highways, broken last night by a hailstorm. Which OF COURSE took place while I was away from home at a rehearsal and couldn't leap to the rescue of the tomato plant I am carefully nurturing on the balcony. Agh. Fortunately it only lost a few leaves, but I shook my fist at the uncaring heavens anyway. I like to think that the mumble of thunder afterward constituted an apology. Pathetic fallacy FTW.