It is 6am here on the Coast of Illinois and the temperature is already near 80, humidity in the triple digits. (Yes, triple digits. That's when it is so humid you can actually watch the moisture squeeze onto plants...)
|look closely. you can actually see the droplets forming. even in a still picture...|
We were fools in that earlier time.
|never thought we would see these again...|
Now, older and sweatier, we understand.
Summer is here. If not calenderly, then at least in a temperate manner.
|can't you hear them singing...Hot Hot Hot.....|
I, for one, am thrilled.
There is nothing better than sitting on the deck in those early morning moments, eating breakfast, sipping coffee – which still manages to get cold despite the thermonuclear power of the rising sun – watching the cat melt into the deck as the squirrels desicrate the bird feeder.
I long to absorb every once of humidity, every bit, until my hair is so frizzy I can barely fit through the door. I delight in the dampness on my skin from the sheer effort of turning the page of the book I am reading. I consider it a free cleaning when my glasses fog to opacity when I exit the air-conditioned space of home to get to the car and then, in reverse from car to house.
Because in just a few short months it will be winter again and that person who lamented the slowness of summer only to immediately bitch about the heat and humidity, will return to their giant puffy coat and whine about heating bills.
Enjoy the moment!
|to me, nothing simultaneously says cool shade and pourable humidity like these leaves.|
(this brief, slightly griping post brought to you by a little too much sun exposure while reading in the sun...)