Lootsommer

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Oornmoond 1999)

Is dat nich een Droomsommer? Woneer hebbt wi Noorddüütschen mol so een scheunen Sommer hatt? De Sünn lacht vun'n Heben liekso as in Italien. In de föfftiger Johrn wüürn wi mit uns Telt op den Campingplacken ,,Claudia'' an den Gardasee männig Johr to Gast. Wüür dat een Lust! Jung, vull Sapp un Knööf. Hüüt süht dat een beten, nee, gans anners ut. Wi hebbt dat Italienwarrer de letzten Weken wohrnohm, un Dag för Dag gans kommodig den Nomidddagskaffe in unsen Goorn drunken. Bloots fallt uns dat Rünnertokeln vun Kaffekann', Tassen un Töllers al bannig swoor, is ümmer een Angohn. Wi sünd beid' nich mihr so seker op de Feut, un de Treppen in den Goorn mit Reedschupp in de Hannen is ümmer een Woognis. Mi is al gor nix mihr totomoden, mütt mi an den Handloop fasthooln, ober mien Heinz woogt dat ümmer noch. Is betherto ok noch good gohn. An trüchliggen Johrn dröff ik ober nich dinken, as ik in'n Draff mit Torte, Kaffekann, Tassen, Töllers, Bestick, Melk - un Zuckerputt in'n groten Korf de Treppen doolneiht bün. Dat wüürn noch Tieden! Jo, ik müch de Tiet giern noch mol trüchdreihn, gor nich dat ik jünger ween müch, nee de Knööf müch ik noch mol warrer hebben. Liekers gifft dat keen Grund to 'n Klogen. Dat sünd nu mol Privilegien de dat Öller mit sik bringt.

Nu warrer trüch in unsen Goorn. Wi sitt op 'n Rosen ünner unsen groten Sünnenschirm un geneet de scheunen, sünnigen Lootsommerdoog. Kaffe un Zwetschenkoken smeckt wunnerbor. Düchtig freit sik uns Katten wenn wi buten sünd. All veer strokelt uns üm de Been, or se leggt sik op de freen Steuhl blang uns dool. Mien Ogen goht rundüm. De Vogeldränk is lerrig, ober ok totol lerrig. ,,Heinz, wo foken büß denn hüüt al warrer an de Vogeldränk vörbistülpt ohn hintokieken?'' froog ik argerlich mien Mann. ,,Ober ok nich een Druppen is dor binn, heß jo wull Schuuklappen vör de Ogen. De armen Deerten hebbt bi disse Hitten doch Döst. Du drinkst doch ok mihr as sünst, aber der Herr holt sich seine Getränke gekühlt aus dem Kühlschrank.'' So, wenn ik greun mit em snack, denn weet he, dat ik nich to 'n Spoßen opleggt bün. Uns lütten Vogels hebbt denn ok gau to Drinken kregen. Wenn dat üm de Deerten geiht un de jümehr Recht nich kriegt seeh ik root.

Hebb ok noch uns Cox-Orange-Appeln plückt. Dat wüürn nich veel, de Hälft harr de Boom al afsmeten. Dat wüür eenfach to dreug, de Appelboom hett kuum noch Blöder, liekers wi foken den Woterslauch ranleggt hebbt. Uns Boskop kann noch good 14 Doog sitten. De Quitten fangt iers an geel to warrn, dat duurt noch, ihr dat an dat Quittengelee geiht.

Heß Huus un Hoff, denn ritt de Arbeit nich af. To wrucken gifft dat ümmer wat, un dat mookt jo ok Spoß, liekers dat Öller uns ok hier un dor al mol een origen Pluck vörsetten deit. De Sünn schall jo noch een poor Doog blieben, un wi warrt unsen Goorn geneten, bet; tjer, bet uns dat buten to sitten to koold warrt. Ok denn geiht uns dat good wiel een warme Dööns uns seker is.

Late Summer

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(August 1999)

Hasn't this been a dream summer? When was it that we North Germans last had such a beautiful summer? The sun keeps smiling down from the sky just like in Italy. Many a year we used to visit the camping ground "Claudia" by Lake Garda in the 1950s. What fun that used to be! Boy! What a wholesome and invigorating time! It is a bit, no, a lot different these days. We have been taking advantage of the Italian weather spell by having afternoon coffee in the cozy atmosphere of our garden. But we have a pretty hard time transporting coffeepot, cups and plates; it is a big production every time. Neither of us is very sure-footed these days, so negotiating the stairs down to the garden with vessels and utensils in our hands is a hazardous venture every time. Not much can be expected of me these days. I have to hang on to the banister. But my Heinz still takes the risk. He has been getting away with it so far. I had better not think about past years, about how in full trot I fell holding a basket with a fancy cake, coffeepot, cups, plates, silverware, milk and sugar in it. Those were the days ... Sure, I would love to be able to wind back the clock, not at all because I want to be younger again - no, I would love to have the energy again. Still, there are no grounds for complaints. Old age comes with certain privileges.

Let us return to our garden. We are sitting on the lawn underneath our large parasol and are enjoying a lovely, sunny late summer's day. The coffee and the prune cake are quite delicious. Our cats just love it when we are outside. All four of them rub up against our legs, or they lounge about on the vacant chairs between us. I keep looking around. The birdbath is empty, totally dry. "Heinz, how often did you walk by the birdbath without looking at it today?" I angrily ask my husband, "There isn't a single drop in it. You must be wearing blinkers. The poor animals are thirsty in the heat. Don't you drink more than usual? [switching to German] But, no, his lordship gets his cool drinks from the refrigerator." Well, he knows I am in no joking mood when I speak "green" [= German]. Sure enough, our birdies soon got their drinks. I see red when animals do not get to what they are entitled.

Also, I picked our Cox Orange apples. There were not many of them; the tree had cast off half of them. It has been simply to dry. The apple tree has hardly any leaves left on it, although we often let the running garden hose lie underneath it. Our Boskop apple tree can wait another two weeks or so. Our quinces are only beginning to turn yellow. It will be a while before it is time to make quince jelly.

There is no end to work when you have a house and a garden. There is always some chore, and it is fun after all, even though old age occasionally erects considerable hurdles at times. It is supposed to remain sunny for a few days, and we will enjoy our garden until ... well, until it gets too cold to sit outside. Even then we will have it good because we are assured of a warm living room.

Laat-sommer

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Aarnmaand 1999)

Is dat nich ein droum-sommer? Waneer hebt wii Nord-Duytschen maal soo ein schoynen sommer hat? De suen lacht fun d'n heven liik soo as in Italien. In de foeftiger jaren woyrn wii mit uns telt op d'n kemping-plakken ,,Claudia'' an d'n Gardasee mennig jaar tou gast. Woyr dat ein lust! Jung! Ful sap un kneuv. Huyt suyt dat 'n beten, nei, ganss anners uut. Wii hebt dat Italien-warrer de letsten weken waar namen, un dag foer dag ganss kommodig d'n namidddags-kaffe in unsen gaarn drunken. Bloots falt uns dat ruenner-takeln fun kaffe-kan, tassen un toellers al bannig swaar; is uemmer 'n angaan. Wii suend baid nich meir soo seker op de foyt, un de treppen in d'n gaarn mit reedschup in de hannen is uemmer 'n waagnis. Mii is al gaar niks meir tou tou mouden, muet mii an d'n hand-loop fast-holden, aver miin Heinz waagt dat uemmer noch. Is bet her tou ouk noch goud gaan. An trueg-liggen jaren droev ik aver nich dinken, as ik in d'n draf mit torte, kaffe-kan, tassen, toellers, bestik, melk un tsukker-put in 'n groten korv de treppen daal-naid buen. Dat woyren noch tiden! Jaa, ik muech de tiid geirn noch maal trueg-draien; gaar nich dat ik juenger ween muech - nei, de kneuv muech ik noch maal warrer hebben. Likers givt dat kein grund tou d'n klagen. Dat suend nuu maal privilegien de dat oeller mit sik bringt.

Nuu warrer trueg in unsen gaarn. Wii sitt op d'n rasen uenner unsen groten suennen-schirm un geneett de schoynen, suennigen laat-sommer-daag'. Kaffe un tswetschen-kouken smekt wunnerbor. Duechtig frait sik uns katten wen wii buten suend. Al feir strakelt uns uem de bein, or sei legt sik op de freien stoyl blangen uns daal. Miin ougen gaat rund uem. De fagel-drenk is lerrig, aver ouk totaal lerrig. ,,Heinz, wou faken buest den huyt al warrer an de fagel-drenk foerbii-stuelpd aan hin tou kiken?'' fraag' ik argerlich miin man, ,,Aver ouk nich ein druppen is daar binnen. Hest jaa wul schuu-klappen foer de ougen. De armen deerten hebbt bii disse hitten doch doest. Du drinkst doch ook meir as suenst ... aber der Herr holt sich seine Getränke gekühlt aus dem Kühlschrank.'' Soo, wen ik groyn mit em snak, den weett hei dat ik nich tou d'n spaassen op-legd buen. Uns luetten fagels hebt den ouk gau tou drinken kregen. Wen dat uem de deerten gait un de juem er recht nich kriigt sei ik rood.

Hev ouk noch uns Cox-Orange-appeln pluekd. Dat woyren nich feel; de helvd har de boum al af-smeten. Dat woyr einfach tou droyg'. De appel-boum het kuum noch bleuder, likers wii faken d'n water-slauch ran-legd hebt. Uns Boskop kan noch goud 14 [feirtain] daag' sitten. De kwitten fangt eirst an geel tou warren; dat duurt noch eir dat 't an dat kwitten-schelee gait.

Hest huus un hov, den ritt de arbaid nich af. Tou wrukken givt dat uemmer wat, un dat maakt jaa ouk spaass, likers dat oeller uns ouk hiir un daar al maal 'n arigen pluk foer-setten dait. De suen schal jaa noch 'n paar daag' bliven, un wii wardt unsen gaarn geneiten bet ... tjer, bet uns dat buten tou sitten tou kold wardt. Ouk den gait uns dat goud wiil 'n warme deunss uns seker is.

Late Summer

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(August 1999)

Hasn't this been a dream summer? When was it that we North Germans last had such a beautiful summer? The sun keeps smiling down from the sky just like in Italy. Many a year we used to visit the camping ground "Claudia" by Lake Garda in the 1950s. What fun that used to be! Boy! What a wholesome and invigorating time! It is a bit, no, a lot different these days. We have been taking advantage of the Italian weather spell by having afternoon coffee in the cozy atmosphere of our garden. But we have a pretty hard time transporting coffeepot, cups and plates; it is a big production every time. Neither of us is very sure-footed these days, so negotiating the stairs down to the garden with vessels and utensils in our hands is a hazardous venture every time. Not much can be expected of me these days. I have to hang on to the banister. But my Heinz still takes the risk. He has been getting away with it so far. I had better not think about past years, about how in full trot I fell holding a basket with a fancy cake, coffeepot, cups, plates, silverware, milk and sugar in it. Those were the days ... Sure, I would love to be able to wind back the clock, not at all because I want to be younger again - no, I would love to have the energy again. Still, there are no grounds for complaints. Old age comes with certain privileges.

Let us return to our garden. We are sitting on the lawn underneath our large parasol and are enjoying a lovely, sunny late summer's day. The coffee and the prune cake are quite delicious. Our cats just love it when we are outside. All four of them rub up against our legs, or they lounge about on the vacant chairs between us. I keep looking around. The birdbath is empty, totally dry. "Heinz, how often did you walk by the birdbath without looking at it today?" I angrily ask my husband, "There isn't a single drop in it. You must be wearing blinkers. The poor animals are thirsty in the heat. Don't you drink more than usual? [switching to German] But, no, his lordship gets his cool drinks from the refrigerator." Well, he knows I am in no joking mood when I speak "green" [= German]. Sure enough, our birdies soon got their drinks. I see red when animals do not get to what they are entitled.

Also, I picked our Cox Orange apples. There were not many of them; the tree had cast off half of them. It has been simply to dry. The apple tree has hardly any leaves left on it, although we often let the running garden hose lie underneath it. Our Boskop apple tree can wait another two weeks or so. Our quinces are only beginning to turn yellow. It will be a while before it is time to make quince jelly.

There is no end to work when you have a house and a garden. There is always some chore, and it is fun after all, even though old age occasionally erects considerable hurdles at times. It is supposed to remain sunny for a few days, and we will enjoy our garden until ... well, until it gets too cold to sit outside. Even then we will have it good because we are assured of a warm living room.

Lootsommer

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Oornmoond 1999)

Is dat nich een Droomsommer? Woneer hebbt wi Noorddüütschen mol so een scheunen Sommer hatt? De Sünn lacht vun'n Heben liekso as in Italien. In de föfftiger Johrn wüürn wi mit uns Telt op den Campingplacken ,,Claudia'' an den Gardasee männig Johr to Gast. Wüür dat een Lust! Jung, vull Sapp un Knööf. Hüüt süht dat een beten, nee, gans anners ut. Wi hebbt dat Italienwarrer de letzten Weken wohrnohm, un Dag för Dag gans kommodig den Nomidddagskaffe in unsen Goorn drunken. Bloots fallt uns dat Rünnertokeln vun Kaffekann', Tassen un Töllers al bannig swoor, is ümmer een Angohn. Wi sünd beid' nich mihr so seker op de Feut, un de Treppen in den Goorn mit Reedschupp in de Hannen is ümmer een Woognis. Mi is al gor nix mihr totomoden, mütt mi an den Handloop fasthooln, ober mien Heinz woogt dat ümmer noch. Is betherto ok noch good gohn. An trüchliggen Johrn dröff ik ober nich dinken, as ik in'n Draff mit Torte, Kaffekann, Tassen, Töllers, Bestick, Melk - un Zuckerputt in'n groten Korf de Treppen doolneiht bün. Dat wüürn noch Tieden! Jo, ik müch de Tiet giern noch mol trüchdreihn, gor nich dat ik jünger ween müch, nee de Knööf müch ik noch mol warrer hebben. Liekers gifft dat keen Grund to 'n Klogen. Dat sünd nu mol Privilegien de dat Öller mit sik bringt.

Nu warrer trüch in unsen Goorn. Wi sitt op 'n Rosen ünner unsen groten Sünnenschirm un geneet de scheunen, sünnigen Lootsommerdoog. Kaffe un Zwetschenkoken smeckt wunnerbor. Düchtig freit sik uns Katten wenn wi buten sünd. All veer strokelt uns üm de Been, or se leggt sik op de freen Steuhl blang uns dool. Mien Ogen goht rundüm. De Vogeldränk is lerrig, ober ok totol lerrig. ,,Heinz, wo foken büß denn hüüt al warrer an de Vogeldränk vörbistülpt ohn hintokieken?'' froog ik argerlich mien Mann. ,,Ober ok nich een Druppen is dor binn, heß jo wull Schuuklappen vör de Ogen. De armen Deerten hebbt bi disse Hitten doch Döst. Du drinkst doch ok mihr as sünst, aber der Herr holt sich seine Getränke gekühlt aus dem Kühlschrank.'' So, wenn ik greun mit em snack, denn weet he, dat ik nich to 'n Spoßen opleggt bün. Uns lütten Vogels hebbt denn ok gau to Drinken kregen. Wenn dat üm de Deerten geiht un de jümehr Recht nich kriegt seeh ik root.

Hebb ok noch uns Cox-Orange-Appeln plückt. Dat wüürn nich veel, de Hälft harr de Boom al afsmeten. Dat wüür eenfach to dreug, de Appelboom hett kuum noch Blöder, liekers wi foken den Woterslauch ranleggt hebbt. Uns Boskop kann noch good 14 Doog sitten. De Quitten fangt iers an geel to warrn, dat duurt noch, ihr dat an dat Quittengelee geiht.

Heß Huus un Hoff, denn ritt de Arbeit nich af. To wrucken gifft dat ümmer wat, un dat mookt jo ok Spoß, liekers dat Öller uns ok hier un dor al mol een origen Pluck vörsetten deit. De Sünn schall jo noch een poor Doog blieben, un wi warrt unsen Goorn geneten, bet; tjer, bet uns dat buten to sitten to koold warrt. Ok denn geiht uns dat good wiel een warme Dööns uns seker is.

Late Summer

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(August 1999)

Hasn't this been a dream summer? When was it that we North Germans last had such a beautiful summer? The sun keeps smiling down from the sky just like in Italy. Many a year we used to visit the camping ground "Claudia" by Lake Garda in the 1950s. What fun that used to be! Boy! What a wholesome and invigorating time! It is a bit, no, a lot different these days. We have been taking advantage of the Italian weather spell by having afternoon coffee in the cozy atmosphere of our garden. But we have a pretty hard time transporting coffeepot, cups and plates; it is a big production every time. Neither of us is very sure-footed these days, so negotiating the stairs down to the garden with vessels and utensils in our hands is a hazardous venture every time. Not much can be expected of me these days. I have to hang on to the banister. But my Heinz still takes the risk. He has been getting away with it so far. I had better not think about past years, about how in full trot I fell holding a basket with a fancy cake, coffeepot, cups, plates, silverware, milk and sugar in it. Those were the days ... Sure, I would love to be able to wind back the clock, not at all because I want to be younger again - no, I would love to have the energy again. Still, there are no grounds for complaints. Old age comes with certain privileges.

Let us return to our garden. We are sitting on the lawn underneath our large parasol and are enjoying a lovely, sunny late summer's day. The coffee and the prune cake are quite delicious. Our cats just love it when we are outside. All four of them rub up against our legs, or they lounge about on the vacant chairs between us. I keep looking around. The birdbath is empty, totally dry. "Heinz, how often did you walk by the birdbath without looking at it today?" I angrily ask my husband, "There isn't a single drop in it. You must be wearing blinkers. The poor animals are thirsty in the heat. Don't you drink more than usual? [switching to German] But, no, his lordship gets his cool drinks from the refrigerator." Well, he knows I am in no joking mood when I speak "green" [= German]. Sure enough, our birdies soon got their drinks. I see red when animals do not get to what they are entitled.

Also, I picked our Cox Orange apples. There were not many of them; the tree had cast off half of them. It has been simply to dry. The apple tree has hardly any leaves left on it, although we often let the running garden hose lie underneath it. Our Boskop apple tree can wait another two weeks or so. Our quinces are only beginning to turn yellow. It will be a while before it is time to make quince jelly.

There is no end to work when you have a house and a garden. There is always some chore, and it is fun after all, even though old age occasionally erects considerable hurdles at times. It is supposed to remain sunny for a few days, and we will enjoy our garden until ... well, until it gets too cold to sit outside. Even then we will have it good because we are assured of a warm living room.

Laat-sommer

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Aarnmaand 1999)

Is dat nich ein droum-sommer? Waneer hebt wii Nord-Duytschen maal soo ein schoynen sommer hat? De suen lacht fun d'n heven liik soo as in Italien. In de foeftiger jaren woyrn wii mit uns telt op d'n kemping-plakken ,,Claudia'' an d'n Gardasee mennig jaar tou gast. Woyr dat ein lust! Jung! Ful sap un kneuv. Huyt suyt dat 'n beten, nei, ganss anners uut. Wii hebt dat Italien-warrer de letsten weken waar namen, un dag foer dag ganss kommodig d'n namidddags-kaffe in unsen gaarn drunken. Bloots falt uns dat ruenner-takeln fun kaffe-kan, tassen un toellers al bannig swaar; is uemmer 'n angaan. Wii suend baid nich meir soo seker op de foyt, un de treppen in d'n gaarn mit reedschup in de hannen is uemmer 'n waagnis. Mii is al gaar niks meir tou tou mouden, muet mii an d'n hand-loop fast-holden, aver miin Heinz waagt dat uemmer noch. Is bet her tou ouk noch goud gaan. An trueg-liggen jaren droev ik aver nich dinken, as ik in d'n draf mit torte, kaffe-kan, tassen, toellers, bestik, melk un tsukker-put in 'n groten korv de treppen daal-naid buen. Dat woyren noch tiden! Jaa, ik muech de tiid geirn noch maal trueg-draien; gaar nich dat ik juenger ween muech - nei, de kneuv muech ik noch maal warrer hebben. Likers givt dat kein grund tou d'n klagen. Dat suend nuu maal privilegien de dat oeller mit sik bringt.

Nuu warrer trueg in unsen gaarn. Wii sitt op d'n rasen uenner unsen groten suennen-schirm un geneett de schoynen, suennigen laat-sommer-daag'. Kaffe un tswetschen-kouken smekt wunnerbor. Duechtig frait sik uns katten wen wii buten suend. Al feir strakelt uns uem de bein, or sei legt sik op de freien stoyl blangen uns daal. Miin ougen gaat rund uem. De fagel-drenk is lerrig, aver ouk totaal lerrig. ,,Heinz, wou faken buest den huyt al warrer an de fagel-drenk foerbii-stuelpd aan hin tou kiken?'' fraag' ik argerlich miin man, ,,Aver ouk nich ein druppen is daar binnen. Hest jaa wul schuu-klappen foer de ougen. De armen deerten hebbt bii disse hitten doch doest. Du drinkst doch ook meir as suenst ... aber der Herr holt sich seine Getränke gekühlt aus dem Kühlschrank.'' Soo, wen ik groyn mit em snak, den weett hei dat ik nich tou d'n spaassen op-legd buen. Uns luetten fagels hebt den ouk gau tou drinken kregen. Wen dat uem de deerten gait un de juem er recht nich kriigt sei ik rood.

Hev ouk noch uns Cox-Orange-appeln pluekd. Dat woyren nich feel; de helvd har de boum al af-smeten. Dat woyr einfach tou droyg'. De appel-boum het kuum noch bleuder, likers wii faken d'n water-slauch ran-legd hebt. Uns Boskop kan noch goud 14 [feirtain] daag' sitten. De kwitten fangt eirst an geel tou warren; dat duurt noch eir dat 't an dat kwitten-schelee gait.

Hest huus un hov, den ritt de arbaid nich af. Tou wrukken givt dat uemmer wat, un dat maakt jaa ouk spaass, likers dat oeller uns ouk hiir un daar al maal 'n arigen pluk foer-setten dait. De suen schal jaa noch 'n paar daag' bliven, un wii wardt unsen gaarn geneiten bet ... tjer, bet uns dat buten tou sitten tou kold wardt. Ouk den gait uns dat goud wiil 'n warme deunss uns seker is.

Late Summer

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(August 1999)

Hasn't this been a dream summer? When was it that we North Germans last had such a beautiful summer? The sun keeps smiling down from the sky just like in Italy. Many a year we used to visit the camping ground "Claudia" by Lake Garda in the 1950s. What fun that used to be! Boy! What a wholesome and invigorating time! It is a bit, no, a lot different these days. We have been taking advantage of the Italian weather spell by having afternoon coffee in the cozy atmosphere of our garden. But we have a pretty hard time transporting coffeepot, cups and plates; it is a big production every time. Neither of us is very sure-footed these days, so negotiating the stairs down to the garden with vessels and utensils in our hands is a hazardous venture every time. Not much can be expected of me these days. I have to hang on to the banister. But my Heinz still takes the risk. He has been getting away with it so far. I had better not think about past years, about how in full trot I fell holding a basket with a fancy cake, coffeepot, cups, plates, silverware, milk and sugar in it. Those were the days ... Sure, I would love to be able to wind back the clock, not at all because I want to be younger again - no, I would love to have the energy again. Still, there are no grounds for complaints. Old age comes with certain privileges.

Let us return to our garden. We are sitting on the lawn underneath our large parasol and are enjoying a lovely, sunny late summer's day. The coffee and the prune cake are quite delicious. Our cats just love it when we are outside. All four of them rub up against our legs, or they lounge about on the vacant chairs between us. I keep looking around. The birdbath is empty, totally dry. "Heinz, how often did you walk by the birdbath without looking at it today?" I angrily ask my husband, "There isn't a single drop in it. You must be wearing blinkers. The poor animals are thirsty in the heat. Don't you drink more than usual? [switching to German] But, no, his lordship gets his cool drinks from the refrigerator." Well, he knows I am in no joking mood when I speak "green" [= German]. Sure enough, our birdies soon got their drinks. I see red when animals do not get to what they are entitled.

Also, I picked our Cox Orange apples. There were not many of them; the tree had cast off half of them. It has been simply to dry. The apple tree has hardly any leaves left on it, although we often let the running garden hose lie underneath it. Our Boskop apple tree can wait another two weeks or so. Our quinces are only beginning to turn yellow. It will be a while before it is time to make quince jelly.

There is no end to work when you have a house and a garden. There is always some chore, and it is fun after all, even though old age occasionally erects considerable hurdles at times. It is supposed to remain sunny for a few days, and we will enjoy our garden until ... well, until it gets too cold to sit outside. Even then we will have it good because we are assured of a warm living room.