So, we were dining on the deck. Fine dining at chez Murray includes the pleasure of watching husband wash down my famous grilled sliders while watching Anderson Cooper on his iPad.
But this wasn't to be a normal tranquil evening. A "whooooosh!" broke the silence.
"What's that?" husband muttered.
I looked up from my Kindle and scanned the eerie backlit glow cast upon his face.
"Ben Bernanke. I heard he's dropping money from helicopters."
"No way," he twisted in the fraying Target deck chair we won three years ago. "We wouldn't get so lucky."
I looked up at the sky. "Oh my!" Grabbing my camera, I took the shot you see above.
(Yes, they did survive, no thanks to our ballistic dog -- Max, protector of the land, mineral rights, and skies above the homestead. Gentle reader, I won't include the photo of what he did to these people after the tree got done with them).
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