Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Dog Days of Summer
I'm going through blog post drafts and came across this unfinished bit. The date stamp shows late August of last year. I have no idea where I was headed with it, but I like it.
I was writing about late summer and fall, the lead in to end of days. Know my sense of humor, I think I was going to write the entire post about NOT our then brand new puppy. Perhaps I was going to lead in to my personal struggles with the shortening days and loss of sunlight.
Spring makes me feel alive, but those last days of summer and fall, they remind me why I should be alive, even as I dread the inevitable falling darkness and now. I'm going to hold on to these words below.
It's becoming apparent, on a minute by minute basis, that summer is waning. The wind has started to shift, and with it the first drying breezes of fall. Bright orange flickers in the eye's corner and a second glance reveals a maple starting to dress for the autumn festival. The air is different, summer's oppressive humidity is replaced with hot, but dryer air. An evening walk must be scheduled a little bit earlier. Staying out past sunset leaves one with a welcome chill. Extra blankets are queued up at the end of the bed in anticipation of chilly overnight temperatures. Unlike the month past when the overnights were to be dreaded as slightly less hot, but more humid sleep preventatives, the changing weather tempts the tired to deep sleep trundled into blankets, burrito like, with only finger- and nose-tips exposed to the cool, dry air.
The air feels like the cicadas' drone. Spring is full of the frogs - wet sounds full of potential. Summer is full of the buzz of insects - the slap at mosquitoes, the creak of crickets, the flashes of lightening bugs. These August days are filled with the cicada - a dry rustling sound that is both warning of the pending frost and reminiscent of crunching leaves.