It's supposed to get hot today. 95 degrees, just like for the grown-ups over there on the far side of the mountains, in Real America. I've gotten my bike ride in early, before the heat, after a short restless night. But I'm anticipating my two o'clock massage – in an old, un-air-conditioned apartment building – with some trepidation. Client, prepare to be dripped upon! I doubt my tennis headband will stem the flood. (This is, by the way, the same client who exclaimed, upon seeing said headband, “Ninja massage therapist!”)
But it's August 4th, and it will be the first hot day of the year. I've been told that this is supposed to be the local effect of global warming: even milder summers for the maritime Northwest. Too good to be true, I expect. But certainly last summer was idyllic: lots of these cloudy mornings, and the sun coming out too late to roast anything. It was wonderful. Everyone complained, and I nodded sympathetically: dreadful! Dreadful! And wriggled with delight. And at night the moon would roll into the cool night, up through the zodiac corridor, enormous and quiet, and the wind would run through the grass, like a sweet night-lizard bringing sleep. And so it will tonight, and while I sleep he'll make the crossing over the Columbia, stepping carefully, like a cat walking on a sheet of ice.
I hope we never grow up.
There is comfort for me in being reminded that on the cool grey days when I mourn the brevity of northern summer, you are wriggling with delight beneath the merciful clouds.
(Okay, we're a thousand miles apart, we're not under the same skies by any stretch of the imagination, but still, the point stands.)
Murr we should be safe by now, don't you think?
There's only one sky, Rachel! With 99 names :-)
Dale, how you do roll off beautiful metaphors!
I suppose you're glad the weather has returned to being dark and chilly. My tomatoes are not.
Yes, I'm with you. Have wriggled with pleasure this summer, far east of you, and made sympathetic faces to these poor Yankees who are as hot as I am usually cold. I'm afraid that I've laughed and refused to complain along with them, though. Nice of you to do so...
Delicious lizard-on-the-rock heat.
Hey, and I'm on no. 176. Freedom lies ahead!
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