What’s that you say Bucky? It’s cold where you are as well? Or worse, you’ve migrated from the cold climates to closer to the equator and you snow seems alien? It is not, cold enough that rain turns into snow yet. Snow is somewhat easier to walk in then pelting cold rain. Snow drifts down from the sky above and gently as its momentum is lost, settles on the ground to gently paint the ground white. Yes, if the flake of snow hits your face it is cold but only fleeting.
The cold rain seems to almost wash the warmth out of your body. Every inch, every drop seeming to carry cold and shivers with it. Ah, the rain drives us indoors. Drives us to that fireplace that forces us to wrestle with Laboradors, who also fear that cold rain. Wait, aren’t they water dogs? Waterproof in some twist of natures fate. But they wish not to have the cold rain make them uncomfortable? Instead, they wish always to curl in their dog resting places pushed by the fireplace?
I moved them, the dogs resting places once, further away from the fire. Dylan dragged his back. I pushed Raven’s back so she would stop bugging me as I tried to watch football. I gave up control of dog bed locations. Now there are two, in front of the fireplace. One for each dog. The cold rain is pouring outside, dragging with it the last warmth of summer. It is cold and without the images of hot sand today, they would fade and become but mere flakes of snow in the memory of warm.