Scottish poet James Thomson enthused about the brilliant heat of
the summer months but we suggest to you, ladies and gentlemen,
that had he experienced the sort of mad dog heat wave the east
coast has lain under this past several weeks he would be less
than thrilled about the prospect of brazen sunshine for so long
and a bit more grateful for that misty, cool weather in which
Scotland so often rejoices.  Right now, we would rejoice in it
too.  It's only mid August and already a number of trees
hereabouts are sporting yellowing patches, with scarlet banners
flaunting themselves atop a pair of sumac trees near the office.
There's been talk of drought and the rising risk of fires
started in bone dry woods by careless visitors. Still, the
typical late summer night soundtrack of crickets serenading
their mates reminds us summer is fleeting and autumn will soon
enough be gone down the pike after it, having ushered in the
season of many peoples' discontent.  And speaking of discontent,
with the arrival of this lates