Deep Summer

We are deep into summer when August comes. In West Virginia, the days are hot and humid and there’s a languid pull on the body that almost makes you inert. The other day I walked with my dog down to my mail box, a distance of 100 feet, and the heat waves shimmered in front of my eyes. The soupiness of the air made it difficult to breathe. Cicadas buzzed at the edge of the yard and my dog stopped, panting, her attention diverted to something in the grass. She flopped on her back and was soon rolling in it. All four legs pumped in the air as she wiggled herself downhill. I retrieved the mail and she popped upright, and I could swear she was grinning.

I hate heat. I didn’t like it as a child, and I still don’t. Summer is green. And hot. But I don’t swim, boat, roller skate, play tennis, or soft ball. To me, about all summer is good for are bugs, sweat, and beer. Still, it didn’t seem so troublesome when I was a kid.

When I was young, my family worked during the heat of the day. Factory, field, or family kitchen, there was no air conditioning. Fans in the window gave a bit of relief. On the weekends, family members mowed grass and chopped at weeds. On a car ride we kids used to joke: our car had 450 air conditioning—4 windows down and going 50 miles an hour.

In the evening, we pitched horseshoes and ate cold watermelon. We often gathered in the yard and told stories. By the time the sun set, heads nodded to agree with the story being told or voices rose to argue a point. Then as the sun set, silence reigned as we watched heat lightning flip up over the hills. The day’s heat ebbed out of the air and our souls. One by one, we’d turn in for the night.

Back in the present, my mail in hand, it was time to escape the August heat. Inside my house, I enjoyed the coolness of air conditioning. My dog looked disappointed, as if the rolling had just begun. She looked up at me as if to say I was missing the real fun of summer: the chance to do—not much. I declined a roll, I told her, but I had an idea. After supper, I made my husband leave the television and join me in the back yard. Maybe the neighbors would come over. We had stories to tell. I hoped that we’d get lucky and heat lightning would illuminate the sky, promising a cool rain.