Summer has hit with a vengeance this year. The weather cannot seem to make up its mind. Either it's blisteringly hot and humid, or it's storming so badly that it turns the ditches into creeks and the creeks into rivers. The air conditioning in my office is not working properly, so we have been alternating between arctic temperatures that penguins would declare to be too cold, or we sit here and wilt like flowers in air that feels like it hasn't moved in 30 years.
Meanwhile, our local weatherman John Belsky is talking about how we're heading towards the worst winter ever. No one wants to hear that, Belsky. Keep it to yourself.
But along with the oppressive heat and the storms, all of the wonderful things about summer have arrived as well. Last night we were driving home at sunset, along the twisting hill roads that rise and fall and weave their way through the trees strong enough to survive the storms. The sky was full of swirling clouds whose undersides were lit with pink and gold. By the time we got home it was dusk, and the fireflies had started to come out. I love fireflies. Every year I look forward to the first night that I see them, and every year it's just as magical as it ever was.
Between the heat and the rain the nights have been thick and foggy here, and the fields are hazy and glittering by the time it reaches full dark. About that time the bats come out. Which is a good thing, because naturally this weather breeds mosquitos and horseflies and other undesireable biting things.
I love it all so much. The fog, the fireflies, the bats, the thick smell of honeysuckle in that humid heavy air, the frogs singing in the pond...I don't think I could ever leave it all behind for city life. It's become too much a part of my life by this point. As much as I dislike the heat, and as bad as the storms have become, I wouldn't give up our summers for anything.