Summertime never was "TOO HOT"

On this beautiful hot, sweltering—jump straight into it—KY summer day, I am noticing the high haze and the exciting feel of a nearing storm on the air. I love it—actually, I do have an emotional feel for this time of high heat in my land—and thrive in it and thank God for it. I pop another sinus pill and leave my windows open as long as I can from April until October. As I work in my yard, I can suddenly stand up and a breeze dries my skin immediately on a hot, dry, day, I love to breathe in summer air, so many fragrances mingled together. We do have a high humidity count on many days, that is a little different, I just stay in under the AC and look out at this breath taking lush vista (suburban though it may be) before my eyes and give thanks.

Today I am drinking in all of this beauty from the inside of my house; it is one of those "drippity-do-dah" days. I still rush in and out of the house on various errands, because a driving force demands that I spend some time in this brazenly colored world. The flowers of reds, yellows, oranges and purples, stand out so boldly as though emblazoned on a green velvet background, sounds tacky but rather is startling, and beautiful. I began to miss summer at its very start.

Something about this day reminds me of the summers of long ago when "play" was all that mattered; I never remember feeling "too hot" then. Not when my brother would swing me hard in our wooden slatted hammock hung between two-apple trees, he would finally flip it with me clinging by my fingers and toes pushed between the salts. I can still hear my Mother's plaintive voice calling "Rhea Beverly, stop that right now!" oh no, my screaming had attracted her attention. My day could get a little hotter if I in turn called back, "I'm not the one pushing!" Seems that for some reason I was always the instigator in her eyes, but then again she did have 20/20 vision in those days and really good ears too!

I was never "too hot" to walk to the skating rink with skates slung over my shoulder 8 or 10 blocks to spend the morning and then walk 20 or so blocks to town to watch the current western movie that afternoon. Also I was never "too hot" to wander from my course when walking home from piano lessons, another 20 or so blocks, it was exciting and I would try to get lost, I never quiet did. I discovered so many neat places along the way, one, a quaint little grocery shop, about the size of a master bath, where I spent my bus money on something chocolate. I did get a little hot (in certain areas) when arriving home and my explanations of where I had been and what took so long didn't suffice.

As I grew older I still do not remember being "too hot" just because of the weather. I remember horseback riding with a friend on Highway 405 on an arid summer's day with a crystal blue sky boiling above us. I had felt so mature, clip- clopping up the sticky black top road, trying to look as if this wasn't the third time I had ever ridden, and  wasn't the first time that I was in a situation with a horse that could turn dangerous.

Well danger did happen—and I did get a bit hot from the adrenalin flowing through
me—my horse spooked, we were off! He was in a dead run and I could smell the sweat of his flesh while the drumming of his hooves rippled the heat waves that were hanging above the oil slicks in the roadway. I lost my cool and wanted to vomit, but that wouldn't work because now I was holding on for dear life, we crossed the road in front of a slow poking old pick up truck and the driver's mouth dropped open and his eyes became like saucers. This was when I dropped the reins and flattened myself as best as I could and grabbed his mane, across the ditch we went and up a small bank, I had a fleeting moment of thinking I looked maybe somewhat like an Indian princess on the big hunt. Around the house, through the back field and then we came to a sudden dead stop. About that time, the cinch thing that goes around a horse's tummy became loose and my world turned upside-down, as the saddle and I slid beneath the horse. My nose was in that stupid horse's belly, he didn't like it neither did I. I fell out, not off, but out of the saddle and rolled to safety. The day was extremely hot, again I didn't feel it, I, of course was numb. God blessed, I lived! I never got in trouble for this 'cause I never told my Mother.

Later in the early teen years there were long summer nights at the Thruston School Playground, with ball games, tennis, and never "too hot", to play hard, visit with friends, do a little flirting and enjoy the concession stand. Some rather nice looking boys were coming from all over the county to play ball, they were a nice summer diversion. My girlfriends and I looked the field over and found most of them lacking.

Then came the, not "too hot" to enjoy, summertime at the playground when I actually became cool, the most cool girl ever. "The One", ask me out on a date, I of course accepted and the rest is history and a colorful history it has been, and full of weather! All sorts of weather, the kind that changes the seasons!. Oh yes, and somewhere along the way I did began to notice the differences in the weather. I decided that I hate the cold stuff. Now-a-days I still find that it is never "too hot" for just about anything that is fun to do, but should it be, then,a tall cold, sweaty glass of lemonade, a large shady tree, and time suspended memories of weather-less childhood could take care of that in a jiffy!

I close with a selfish prayer:
Father,give me sunshine,
A few clouds if you must,
Rainy days hold promises,
But cold days are a bust!


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