Good morning. A boneless blue morning in Philadelphia, but wintery: Temp. 27 F when I left home.
Boneless Blue Morning? I've never heard that so I'll have to think about what it means.
Never? Here's the original reference:In May of 1983 they spent a few cold days at a series of little icebound, no-name high lakes, then worked across into the Hail Strew River drainage. Going up, the day was fine but the trail deep-drifted and slopping wet at the margins. They left it to wind through a slashy cut, leading the horses through brittle branchwood, Jack, the same eagle feather in his old hat, lifting his head in the heated noon to take the air scented with resinous lodgepole, the dry needle duff and hot rock, bitter juniper crushed beneath the horses' hooves. Ennis, weather-eyed, looked west for the heated cumulus that might come up on such a day but the boneless blue was so deep, said Jack, that he might drown looking up. {story}
Thanks, Bud! (Miss you!)