The Dogs of Summer

The weather in this part of Texas is a little warm. And by “a little warm” I mean that we’ve been hanging out around 100F/38C for weeks. With no rain. This weekend the weather gurus are forecasting a hop up above 104F/40C before gliding back into the recent pattern. We’re experiencing a very dry (as in no rain) summer, in addition to a dry (as in slightly less humid) spell of air (possibly thanks to Hurricane Irene sucking all of the moisture from the atmosphere of the Western Hemisphere), but this is not a dry heat. This is air that might be able to support sea life.

August (and by “August” I mean August and September, which are virtually interchangeable, weather-wise) is traditionally very hot in this part of Texas. That fabled time of year when people talk about the air going out of everything. By which they mean that the brisk daily sea breeze sort of peters out, letting that moist air lay down upon your skin like a damp blanket that’s been tossing in the clothes dryer for a few minutes. August is the month that people Endure in this part of Texas. Endure for the promising possibility of beautiful weather and flip-flops in October and November. Endure for the potential gift of wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the sunshine on Christmas. 

So in August, we move our bodies very slowly, to conserve energy. We travel from shady spot to shady spot, and if we are dogs, we pant. We move our brains very slowly, because the hot haze seeps in and makes complex thinking difficult. We hold dripping wet glasses full of ice water to our foreheads and dream of that cool October breeze that will stir us from the lethargy of August.

*** 

Editor’s Note: Two hours after I wrote this piece, out of the (hot) clear, blue sky, rain clouds rolled in. For about an hour I watched the sky get very dark, the clouds build into black castles of vapor. The wind blew very hard, pushing around the dust that had nothing to hold it to the ground. I wondered if this storm could be all bluster and no punch. The temperature dropped significantly. The straight wind started swirling. A few big, fat, rain drops made dots on the sidewalk, then evaporated in seconds as I watched them. I looked at the sky and wondered if the dots would be connected. I gave up and went in the house. The plink, plink, think of raindrops against the kitchen vent hood drew me to a window to witness the most beautiful downpour I’ve seen in a long time. A light to moderate rain fell for almost two hours, complete with thunder and lightning. Another booming storm woke us during the night, and another tripped in as the kids were going to school this morning. As far as drought goes, this is just a drop in the bucket, but we’ll take it. And this rain only changes our August behavior slightly. As we hold the dripping glasses to our skin, we will also be swatting mosquitoes.