A long time ago I heard a piece on the radio about how you can calculate the temperature by counting the rate of the crickets chirping. I was driving to the mountains on a beautiful fall Saturday in the September of my first year of teaching, and everything seemed so perfect already that this information was as intoxicating as spiked koolaid-- the blue skies, leaves turning in the golden light, and the slow but steady singing of crickets marking the entrance of Autumn was all almost too much.
Today, the first Friday of the school year, was an equally lovely day, and tonight I hear the peeping of crickets outside my open windows. I paused a few moments ago to count their chirps and applied the formula I heard so long ago.
48 degrees? That seems a little off.
Today, the first Friday of the school year, was an equally lovely day, and tonight I hear the peeping of crickets outside my open windows. I paused a few moments ago to count their chirps and applied the formula I heard so long ago.
48 degrees? That seems a little off.
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