it's just hot out there

and i am sheltering behind curtains and shadows and parking in the shade when i venture out, if shade can be found, if others haven't already claimed it as theirs. the trees at my mother's house are mostly in the back yard, the one huge live oak too far from from the driveway to offer any coolness, and it matters not if i back into the drive or pull forward - the sun is relentless and the heat is hard, merciless, and fast. i've lived in hot places only and am familiar with augusts both humid and dry, but i always forget the trueness of hot. i have the memories, know the feel of a hot road under bare feet, but like pain, it is easy to remember, but impossible to conjure up that true feeling.

4 days into 5 days off, and each afternoon finds me in acceptance of this heat, indeed the afternoons are the easiest - i tell myself it is august, it is texas out there, after all, and i relax into the coolness of my house, quite shaded, surrounded by pecan trees, magnolia, hackberry, the cherry laurel, oak, nestled next to dogwoods and camellias, and i read and i read, and yesterday i began to repaint the bathroom, no hurry, just a bit here and there, it is something to do when i can't sleep and the books have momentarily lost their charm. the lovely, lovely katie and i shop antique stores full of dark, heavy furniture, and mi casa imperfecta, small though it is, feels like luxury when i get home - airy, light, cluttered, but full of sunshine filtered through leaves hanging still in the motionless air. there is silence, and cool white sheets on the bed, and the freezer holds nothing but ice and lime popsicles. there is a kitkat bar in the refrigerator and milk for cheerios, and strawberries and blueberries and white grapes. i am drowsy by 5 pm, lulled by the sound of the air conditioner and the fan.

life is good.