Melting moments
All men become equal under the pummelling noonday sun.
– Anonymous
Aw, man, it’s 39° (108° F) here today and breezeless.
Branches and blooms and panting pups… everything is drooping. Birdsongs and bodies and brains: all is languor.
The cicadas alone are hyped, pumping out their tinny and trill spin cycle anthem – a bad piccolo player on amphetamines.
Oh, to be a 7-year-old – leaping through the sprinkler in sopping underwear, berserk with slipping and squealing and knowing that summer is still to come.
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- But, oh! To be 38 yrs old (I am) and in a clawfoot bathtub filled with cool water, listening to “Green Onions” along with the purring of a small fan in the background… whilst sipping on an icy cold Bombay Sapphire Gin & tonic with lime in the midst of 90+ F degrees.
And during the course of a midwest summer, there will be variations on this theme…
— roggey Jun 21, 4:39pm # - Grannies don’t admit to being 38 (or even 7.) She’s happy to wield the hose for the latter – or even supply the G and T for the former. She’ll then take a glass of wine, a good book and a hammock. In the winter (this is the Canaries) a hot tub replaces the hammock; otherwise as above. Love the prose by the way; in or out of brackets…
— Grannyp Jun 23, 10:10am # - Gail, can you write my next tour piece for me? I love your tinny trilling pumping cicadas. i want a holiday! lovely as ever. and so SHORT. how d’you do that?
— ruth Jun 27, 6:41am #
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