His neck is on fire. He is not wearing a mask.
This was the view from the plane as we flew over Colorado last Wednesday afternoon.
The sudden onset of smoke was startling. Such a filthy sight after many miles of blue skies and fluffy white clouds!
Our trip back East was uneventful. We flew with Will to Denver and we separated in the plane so each one of us had a window seat. At Southwest the middle seats are still left open, which is lovely.
FYI: Everyone–and I mean everyone–wore masks. At the Spokane, Denver and Baltimore airports, every single person I saw was masked. As they were on all the flights. 100% compliance.
The airline industry wants you to feel safe. And we did.
Denver’s airport was packed with people, but the three of us found a restaurant where we had our last meal together and talked about our favorite moments of the summer. Then there were hugs goodbye and final waves and we went in different directions for the next flights.
Banjo Man and I landed in Baltimore at midnight, so that airport was much quieter. We spent the night in Baltimore and then flew out the next morning to arrive in Providence at 10:20 AM.
And yes, once again everyone was masked.
And now we are home. The leaves are turning color and falling to the ground. I am going to a pumpkin patch this morning to admire pumpkins and buy a little pot of mums. After a couple of weeks of cleaning the lake house in preparation of leaving it, we are now cleaning again.
Make it stop.
We had one last campfire the night before we left the lake.
And so the Summer of 2020 ended…