The title of this blog post is pretty self-explanatory. It’s mid-July now and my home is starting to look like a savannah. I’ve lived here much longer than many people have been alive (ha, so if you’re younger than I am, you have less experience and know less. You have also not seen as many hot, hot summers, although I’m not sure that that’s a point against you.)
Anyway (tee hee, rambling here) we’ve been swimming once a week over the last month. We missed swimming or did it rarely for several years and we found it really was something we liked doing. Just dipping in a local splashy pool for a while until you work up a comfortable scent of chlorine, then find a little chair, put a towel on it, and watch the little kids hop around and yell. At least, that’s what I do. My sister goes and sits under a fountain that drops huge buckets of water on her head.
I have been very tired recently and am possibly getting slow and belated heat tiredness, especially since we swim in the bright-and-sunny afternoon. Two years ago we went to the pool on the 3rd of July, lay beside it for hours, and came home with horrible heatstroke the next day. Which was the 4th of July. So we couldn’t enjoy the food at all, we felt run over by a truck, and my dad was talking about some movie and I couldn’t even answer him. I was just in a dazed stupor that felt sick. Since that time I’ve been more careful and I’ve never felt like THAT again. That was weird. But still—lots of sun can get into your brain.
Which is why I’m writing about it, obviously.
And there will be more updates.
Singing, dreaming, telling stories . . . I live surrounded by cultivated fields that rapidly give way to wild flowers, wild plants, and wild life. I love to write more than I love to read, but nothing equals a book that draws me in to find its story. Most recently publication: A Year with the Harrisons, a contemporary coming of age about three sisters, country life, and music. Next year's publication: Temmark Osteraith, a futuristic fairy-tale adventure.