Growing up on the Roadrunner cartoons affected a whole generation and a half. It was OK to blow someone up with Acme Dynamite. Acme Catapults were perfect for throwing things long distances. And so on. There was no PC. And there was good ol’ violence. Violence after a fashion, since most was self-inflicted by/on Wiley Coyote.

I thought of that Monday morning. We’ve been ripping along in full-on summer mode. A little cool the last few days, but remaining summer. Shorts, Flip-flops. T-shirts with a sweater in the early morning and then again in the evening.

And then Monday, we dropped through a trap door into another country and another world. The mountains disappeared. It was cold. No, not just cold, but almost freezing. And raining, snowing, groppling and then raining again. And blowing. It never blows in Fernie. And cold enough to look for long pants and even socks. Did I say cold?

What’s up?

Who pulled the Wiley Coyote dropping us unexpectedly through an Acme Trap Door in the sidewalk?

Whose hand was on the switch?

Flip it back. Now.

We’re a whole town of Wiley Coyotes dropped through a trap door into late fall/early winter and we need a ladder to get back up to the real world. We desperately need to return to our last precious vestiges of summer.

Anyone got the ladder?

Anyone?