In Praise of Both Seasons

What on God's green earth is a person to think?

Earlier this month, I delayed taking the Røyksund Fleet
out of storage from a farm barn in Rosemount,
and here we are--yesterday and today--at 95 degrees!

I have two sprinklers going--well, actually, one is going:
the other is stationary--and they are doing no good at all!
The water comes out, but just as it touches down,
it turns to steam, sterilizing and killing the plants.

I drag-ass two hundred feet of hose, and when I sit down
I generate a little steam, myself. I assume sterility.
It does not matter; not any more. Here in Minnesota,
we have climate change every few weeks. After months
of snow, the astroturf greens again, and the mosquitoes
return, hitchhiking in the laundry of showbirds coming home.

I used to daydream that it might be fun, someday,
to take our boat to the Gulf of Mexico, but the boat is white.
I would go north, but trying to time when winter ice goes out
and subsequent winter ice comes in is tricky. You have
to leave here before the ice melts or you will miss it.

But we are a hardy folk! We like to say "folk". Or "folks".
We sprinkle the lawns when we can, hoping not to stay
too late into the season, resulting in 200 feet of frozen hose.

We love the seasons, we folk!
Don't know how we could live in places
where it is liveable all year around.

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