Name the date of the first frost here in good ol’ 57069. I’m not talking a little nippy edge-of-leaves burn, I’m talking major meltdown of tender tomatoes–a blackening of basil, an honest-to-goodness killer of a frost.
I’m wavering around October 4. Maybe the 7th. You never know–we could go as far as the second or third week. As they say around my home town, “Hard tellin’, not knowin’.”
Winner of the guessing game gets the prize–to lean back in their porch chair when they are an old coot, smack their lips, and say, “Ye-ay-uh! I remember back in ought-eight when ah wuz the on-lee one who preee-dicted the ack-ur-ate date of the vury first freeze of the season. Willickers! That was some year!”
What? Isn’t that enough?