Two days of highs in the low seventies, and I am doing everything I can to cool the house down before tomorrow, with a predicted high in the 80s. I am done with summer. So, so done … and yesterday, when we three piled in the car to pick up Sparks’ crab pots, it suddenly–like, turned on a dime–seemed like everything else was finished with summer, too. The large-leaf maples were turning gold. The ferns and bracken were coppery-bronze. The sky was overcast and rain threatened, tremulously, to begin. The rain that won’t stop until it’s summer again.
HHHEEYYYYYY. Three legal crabs. That’s a five-gallon bucket, by the way. These critters are nothing to sneeze at. Sparks and I gorged ourselves on boiled crab meat dipped in butter, and had enough left over for appetizer-sized crab cakes the next day. Not bad. Not bad at all.