The twelfth of August.

Does summer feel like it’s racing — I say gobsmackingly racing! — along to you?

Vroom, vroom.

Southern Ontario hopped up on August.

Hey-Hey-Hay! We’re on a roll.

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’. Keep them hay bales…

Oops. Wrong song.

If you see a hay bale in my garden, there might be Pigmunk, Demon Squirrel, or Baby Undead Bunny under it.

Or maybe all three. RIP!

I’m not prepared to make a statement at this time.

We’re doin’ summer!

We’re paintin’ clouds with a brush!

We’re gradin’! Forevah, baby. Forevah.

Easin’ on down the road…

Droppin’ our “G’s” wherever and whenever.

It’s summer. Everybody just loosen up.

Dial-A-Ride!

This is what happens when I’m in the car too long not drivin’.

Just ask the G-Man.

Let’s just hippity-humpity-hop right over Hump Day.

Elen