It is still dark. I force myself to sit down to work. I click on the forecast. Hot, humid days ahead. Good. I need them. I need to feel saturated so that November (and the winter months thereafter) does not seem like such a disappointment.
My workmen gather (how quickly they have become “mine!” Repetition breeds familiarity. I work, they come outside my window and drink coffee, there at 5:30, every morning. Hi guys.)
What are the colors of today’s sunrise? When I was little, I used cornflower blue to outline puffy clouds on pictures. They must not have been sunrise clouds for these are bordered in pink or orange.
The sun has crossed the horizon. At this time of the year, it comes up smack in the middle of the cut up tree. I feel sorry for the tree – it is tall and beautiful but it made the mistake of growing by electric cables and so it has been made to look like a wishbone of a chicken.
I take Mr. B to work. The saddle bags which carried 35 lbs of groceries yesterday (I balanced another 10 lbs on the handlebar) are carrying texts needed for class this day. And cookies.
Class moves along nicely. The students offer wise and sensible comments. It feels like a conversation. Summer classes, I learn, are more relaxed. I could wear shorts and it would be okay. (I do not. I like summer skirts.)
Suddenly we hear a rumble. Another. More like a roar. Out of nowhere an orange dot has appeared over Madison (so tells me a student who happened to click on the weather site, with radar indicating a newly developing storm).
Class ends. It is pouring outside. What happened to the pretty little clouds outlined in pink and orange?
It lets up a little. I go out. The Bascom Mall sidewalk is somewhere there, beneath a layer of water.
Mr.B looks miserable. His saddle bags are drooping. I had left my helmet out, on his handlebars. I squeeze the strips and let the water out. Why bother? It is wet, everything is wet. And as I get on his wet seat, I see that things are about to get even wetter.
It is raining again. The temperature has dropped from a morning high of 86 to a now not so warm 70. I see that there is flooding on University so I peddle down to Dayton. It’s worse there. I am reminded of biking to work in winter. Get me indoors already! And please, let me not take a tumble now!
I manage by moving on and off of sidewalks. I try to protect my camera. I myself am beyond wet.
All I can think of is the café on Main Street where they know my favorite drink.
At last. I look ridiculous, I know. Like I've been freshly oiled for a wrestling match. I am not beyond posting ridiculous looking photos of me, taken by me at the café. They are used to my oddities there. I always ask for an extra hot latte, even in hot and humid summer days. If you get it extra hot it lasts longer.