When summers (and other things) aren't quite what they seem

Last week it seemed like summer was on its way. Taking time from weeding words from manuscripts, I crouched in old jeans to tackle the dandelions instead. The flowerbeds, those I got to anyway, have never looked so ready for summer sun. And then it rained. The sound of birdsong's gone again in the endless dripping haze. Squirrels have wisely gone back to sleep. And roads are tangled with branches fallen from trees--wouldn't you think they'd run out of loose limbs to drop on us eventually? The...