Oh, glorious summer! Lush and colorful! Every wildflower busting out in bloom. The scent of green sex is everywhere, bold enough to make a human dizzy and lustful. Bright goldfinches swoop and dive above the weeds. In midsummer, I walk along the roadside or wander in the green and quiet woods, and feel at peace. This is my time for rest, these precious months, before I return to work in the prison-school.
Yesterday, in the woods, the air was hot and sticky, barely moving. Mosquitos feasted on my bare skin and flies tormented me, but I was happy anyway. I tossed aside my shirt and shoes and danced on the pine needles.
Back home, as evening lowered, I watched storm clouds gather to the west. The wind rustled the leaves and the first drops of rain were heavy, fat blobs, hitting the wooden deck with a musical sound. Then the wind blew more fiercely, turning the leaves over, and then the branches began to heave and the trees to bend. The evening grew heavy and dark. Cloud people raced across the sky, and as I watched, two enormous arms of cloud reached over my house, as if to envelop it.
I gasped! Each end of the great cloud was turning around itself, creating funnels where the hands of its arms would be. They lowered toward me, reaching out for me, down and further down until they seemed near enough to touch. Then I was overwhelmed with a primitive fear and ducked back inside the house. This cloud was a dangerous beast, a huge, monstrous thing, and I was frightened! The moment I stepped inside, the cloud people released their load of rain, birthing a fantastic storm. Rain swept across the lawn in driving sheets. The cloud arms with their funnel hands disappeared into the uniform gray, lightening flashed and thunder shook the hillside.
I watched until the storm subsided. Then, I turned away from the open door and pulled a watermelon from the fridge and cut it up to eat for my beloved and me. We munched in quiet peace.
The evening sky lightened and I could see lazy wisps of storm cloud meander over the valley, shimmering with lightening. Oh, how I love summer in the Land-On-Which-I-Walk! I would love to hear about summer where you live.