Driving around the lake yesterday I saw a few tree leaves with tinges of red. Is fall coming or are they distressed trees proclaiming their protests to this hot, humid weather?
Friends tell me, “I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. I can’t wait for the snow to fly. At least I can put more clothes on.”
There is a limit to how much clothing one can shed. A neighbor, living behind stockade fences, gardens, and pine trees, enjoys watering her plants in her underwear. but how many of us have foliage to shelter our almost-naked bodies from unexpected visitors? Dave was out in the neighborhood campaigning for his political favorites when he entered the neighbor’s sanctuary. His eyes spotted a seemingly nude figure watering her plants: he did an about face and ran. That would have been an embarrassing encounter for both parties. I doubt he would have gained her political support.
Even my brain is sluggish along with my lethargic body. No matter how much ice water I consume, or how often I dive into the lake, I can’t get my groove back; I have no energy. The lake feels like bath water, but if I dunk my head under the water numerous times and remain in my wet swim suit, life feels better.
Dreaming, I’m planning my Thanksgiving table with a big, fat turkey and all the trimmings. I’ll serve Mom’s delectable cranberry cake with the butter-rum frosting oozing over each piece. The Thanksgiving platter, chips and all, will be placed in the center of the table which will be covered with the once-a-year cloth purchased in Provence, France. We’ll invite scads of guests to enjoy the feast and play games afterwards. Buddy will attempt to catch any tidbits falling from our plates. All will have stuffed tummies and enjoy a nap following the meal.
Sweaters and corduroys, wool skirts and thick socks, skates and cross-country skis fill my dreams. Cooling off improves my moods and my body feels better simply dreaming of cold nights and flannel PJ’s. Christmas music will flood the house and I’ll start planning my Christmas tree trimmings.
As the torrid sun beats through my windows, I can feel my body sweating. It’s back to reality. It’s 92 degrees outside. The lake is not filled with swimmers and boaters. It’s too hot and humid. When will summer come to an end and we can enjoy the coolness of fall breezes and wool clothing?
