I'm in London, drinking in the sweet, nostalgic scent of the Tube, lulled to sleep by sirens, not cicadas. Meanwhile I'm worrying a little about my Western New York garden, which I've left to the tender mercies of the weather and any visitor who might happen along.
Still, there's nothing to be done. Mother Nature will have her way - though at least the blueberries are all gone. And we won't get snow yet. Probably.
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