Dog Days of Summer

Ahhhh, can’t you feel it? That nippish breeze curling up against the backside of the hot dry summer air. The hint, the tiniest of hints that causes a panic flutter deep inside our chests. We are now in the dog days of summer. The. End. Is. Near.

For me, as well as lots of others, I have a love/hate relationship with August.  As soon as the calendar page is turned (yes, we still keep a paper copy) and the dew twinkles at me in the dawn light, I find myself running amok, like a headless chicken, clucking over my list of things to do that haven’t been done because it was too hot. Or, in between those moments, I’ll find myself  standing perfectly still, like a cat stalking a hummingbird, feeling the crisp edge of air tickling over my hot skin, making me realize there is nothing, absolutely nothing, as refreshing as that gentle breeze. And, in those moments, I’ll melt into the easy chair on the patio, reach for my latest whodunit, and make the most of it. List of undone things be damned.

Oh, yeah, I hate those god-awful beautiful moments! images

We beat the record this year for the longest stretch of days without rain — 56 days — hot, hot and in the end, melting days layered with smoke. Smoke from BC’s burning forests  so many kilometers away, blown west to be trapped under our high pressure ridge. Yet, each time someone felt like complaining we just had to think of those poor souls, in the interior, thousands of them, evacuated from their towns, not knowing if they have a home to return to. And we’d shut our mouths, wipe our brows, and talk of other things.

Today, in the middle of the dog days of August, the smoke, for us, has cleared and  we have another day of beautiful blue skies, temps in around 21°C (70°F) and  I still have that list of things to accomplish. But first, Man-Wonder wants to do a short fly-fishing jaunt to the local lake. I think he needs company. Besides, I’m almost at the ending of my book. . . .

 

Ciao for now

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