Saturday, June 7, 2008
Ah, the 3 H’s--hazy, hot and humid. My 3 favorite words. Apparently, I, alone in the universe, love the heat. Summer is my favorite season. I love lying on top of the covers with the window fan blowing cool night air over me. I love summer’s warm embrace as I walk outside after work frozen from my chilly office. I love the hot blast of air ruffling my hair as I drive down the highway with all the windows down and the music blaring. I love sitting on the back deck with a sweating glass of gin and tonic listening to the tree frogs. I love watching the bats flutter through the air snapping up the biting insects on warm summer evenings. I love getting up before the heat rises and watering the garden in my housedress and that the neighbors think it’s OK. I love the cool feel of the tiles on my bare feet. I love a big bowl of icy watermelon for lunch. I love the sun on my head. There is nothing about the heat that I do not like. (Uh, well, I do not like sunburn. And I do not love sweating. And you have to make sure to dress for it. And I did think I was going to suffocate once in Managua.)
But having said all that, remember, I live on a mountain where it never gets hot enough to need A/C but every room has a ceiling fan. I leave folded comforters on the foot of the beds, because you will need to pull them up in the dead of the night, even in July. We often sit wrapped in blankets late on summer evenings around the fire pit roasting marshmallows or passing a bottle of Hypnotiq. It is never too hot to eat outdoors and the cold waters of the lake are down the road. Summer on the mountain is fleeting, but spectacular.