A friend of mine wrote that her mother, who winters in Florida and spends the summer in the Michigan family home, is considering cutting out early and returning to Florida in a couple of weeks. The cold Midwestern summer is dragging her down.
I’m with her on that one. There’s something terribly wrong about a July that offers up both a high of only 65, at the same time that it thrusts upon us the usual swarms of mosquitoes and over-air conditioned interiors. Life is brutal this year in the Midwest.
It is not surprising, therefore, that I stayed at my home desk (response to commenter question: the writer’s shed is taking the path of all great cathedrals of Europe: it is turning into a multi-stage project, with each phase taking years and epochs to complete).
Here are some more depressing notes:
I cooked broccoli soup for supper. How “winter” is that!
My movement was of the indoor kind – in the gym.
I skipped the Wednesday market around the corner. Too cold. Never mind that vendors were equally cold, and for a significant number of morning hours.
I watched the Tour de France because the race was along the Mediterranean and I was jealous. Of the Tour de France. That's beyond insane.
I have a photo for you – it is of a robin. I post pics of robins in March to remind myself (and you) that spring is about to happen. Let me not post it. Too sad to resurrect themes from March.