Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I am secretly savoring summer's heat.

Unlike my tomatoes. :-(

I mean, I know that it's fashionable to complain about the unending days of one-hundred-degree-plus temperatures, but I am just so, so glad not to be cold anymore.

Fall is my favorite season, but summer holds a special place in my heart. I love to sit on my back porch, soaking in the heat, languid and lazy. I love grilled vegetables and sausages and steaks, cold beers and ice cream. I love skirts--short skirts, flouncy skirts--and tank tops and sandals and bright summer colors. I love long days of sunshine. I love being able to wander around the house not bundled up like an eskimo. I love fingers and toes that aren't paralyzed with cold.

Admittedly, my garden has pretty much given up and died. Admittedly, the dogs, when forced outside, slink off to holes they dug deep back under the bushes. Admittedly, I work for eight hours a day in an office my boss keeps at fifty-five degrees and I have to wear a sweater even in July. Admittedly, I am not a construction worker or a farmer or someone without an air-conditioned home to retreat to.

I'm just sitting of an evening on the back porch, dripping with almost as much sweat as the cold beer at my side, drowsing, too hot to even read. And it's wonderful.

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