28 June 2005

Summer Evenings

I love summertime. And not because it's something like a break, or because work becomes more laid back, or even because I get the chance to barbeque. It's not any one thing, just everything summer is to me.

Summer is the smell of sunscreen, and the patently east-coast mix of hot and humid. Sand is supposed to stick to your legs, and the only use for indoors is a place to sleep. And summer thunderstorms are beautiful.

We're having one now -- the sky is streaked dark and grey, and thunder is rolling off to my right, somewhere. When I drove, fat raindrops splattered through my window, which is cracked because my AC is still broken, and I could feel the rumbles through the air. I love the lightning that highlights the clouds -- I got a chance to see some from the air on one of my recent flights, and it was flashing red, so high up people might not even have been able to see it on the ground. And even though it messes up my plans for work (today was supposed to be a work-on-butterfly day), and keeps me from hopping on the bike, I can't help but smile at the way the air is suddenly cooler and lighter in the aftermath of the storm. It's like the earth is giving a sigh of relief, at the break from the summer heat.

It's the little things, right?

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