For the gods of the Kenai's ears are sensitive and their demeanor wicked.
It's the season of in between, one where the snow has begun to accumulate again in those hinterlands winter retreats to through the summer, but has yet to swoop down upon the lowlands.
One should always be careful what they say and what they write, for the gods are fickle and cruel.
"Looking forward to a white winter?" They'll ask, laughing as they smite thee with a wet forty-degree rain.
Just as they have been know to unleash horrendous blizzards in the months of April and May when the sun starved denizens of this land look hopefully toward the heavens for a reprieve.
Now is the time to wait quietly, enjoy a nice weekend if it comes, roll up the sleeves to catch the dimming rays of light, and try not to sigh too deeply in the morning when the mercury has not fallen below the red line drawn across the integer, 32.