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Just before I got sick I caught the first scent of autumn air – the cool, damp, breezy morning.

Then I got sick, it got HOT and HUMID and started acting like a proper summer.
My garden in all it’s dark green leafy splendor is already showing signs of the harvest around the corner.

The gourds, at long last, are blooming and the vines have grown out of the fenced area and are poised to stage a take-over in our back yard. The tomatoes are turning red, ripe, and plump; the peppers are growing perceptibly every day and should be ready for harvesting by the end of August. I’ve already harvested a few jalapenos, but most are still on the vine and more flowers are appearing every day. You just know the flowers from this week will be the last stragglers as the weather changes, the leaves turn orange and fall into the garden.
It’s a strangely satisfying feeling of being connected to the seasons and to the earth.

*****

Earlier today I was standing outside the Mexican food cart waiting for my enchilada. I had only been outside for 15 minutes and was already feeling sticky and hot. I longed to be out of the wet.
A guy in a Findorff hardhat and t-shirt expressed his desire for fall. When his buddy pointed out what comes after fall, he shrugged it off. I can’t imagine how unpleasant it must be to be doing manual labor in this kind of weather. No relief from the hot and the sticky, no climate controlled building to relax in. Maybe it’s not so bad when you’re not having to re-acclimatize 4 or 5 times a day.

I am ever-so-thankful for the coolness of the DHFS building. I find I like the smell of cool, damp granite and marble – it reminds me of college. It makes me wish I could have walls and floors made of natural stone in my house. It would be nice walk barefoot on cool, smooth floors on days like this. The practical devil on my shoulder reminds me it would be bloody awful in winter.
But it’s not winter; it’s hot, humid, sticky August and my fantasies are concerned with staying cool and still enjoying summer.