July 18, 2016 by phicks2012
The Old Farmer’s Almanac predicted a cool wet summer this year, but unless things change drastically I’m thinking that folklore is going to take a real beating, PR-wise, this season! Also, while I’ll confess that I’ve not run the A/C in my house for going-on four years now — and the financial math makes this a necessary equation — stepping outside after about 9am has been reminiscent of stepping into a sauna, only without the benefits.
Tally up heat, humidity, and a vehicle with a non-functional A/C compressor, and what you have is an absolute requirement to drive fast enough to force a steady breeze through wide open car windows — even if it does raise th eyebrows of traffic cops, and stir up the hay left in the back of the car enough to leave you looking like you’ve been rolling around in a barn. Standing around in the sun is NOT an option, by the way! 😉
So, suffice it to say that the recent weather inspired the verse below!
The sky like a blanket, hangs over the field,
With Summer’s breath sodden, and feeling its weight
We hunger for Winter her ice-sword to wield,
To sever the fabric and heat abrogate.
Or call out for Autumn, with sweet-scented breath,
To leap from the forest with leaves in her hair,
And chase Summer down, like a doe, to her death
That we might find solace while she lingers there.
Or long for sweet Spring in her soft greening gown
With blossoms to mark where she softly doeth tread.
Her tresses stream gold ‘neath a flowering crown,
And rivulets flow where our footsteps are led.
We long for her sisters, like glittering jewels,
Yet Summer, obdurate, tenacious doeth cling,
To chase us away to the succoring pools,
‘Til the fair Evening comes, and we shade ‘neath her wing.
[30 June, A.S. LI, 2016]