It would have to be a callous joy one gets from reading about heat in other parts of the country when your own backyard is cold and wet and windy and very unseasonal. Certainly cooler weather in summer in the Keys is a thing of beauty but to read of people being killed by the heat wave Up North is unsettling.
I cannot imagine 120 degrees and no air conditioning. I rejoice in the climate of the Keys, the place where it rains when it's hot, where winters are warm and well lighted and where summers rarely get to 100 degrees. This summer strong east winds have kept us chilled and rain has been a welcome coolant this year coming in bursts and adding to the pleasure of a low key summer.
And then I read of calamitous drought in the west, no snow to melt no rain from the sky and underground sources of water drying up. I feel fortunate.
There is the not inconsiderable problem of sea level rise but for the time being a few roads go underwater a few months (!) out of the year and we pretend all is well. The day will come but it's not today and real estate prices continue their mad climb in the face of certain sea level rise.
Seagrape season is upon us, the time of mellow fruitfulness when you can pluck little black grapes off the trees and suck the pulp off the huge pit in the middle. Soon the rural roads will have black splatter on the edges where the grapes have ripened and fallen. I find birds finish them off before I get a look in nut sometimes on my walks I get lucky and get a taste. I am hoping for the best this year.
Meanwhile we wait for summer to reveal itself properly. My wife has retired so she has no qualms about the start of teaching this August when schools are expected to go back to normal indoor teaching. Normal would be nice.
A friend asked me what i thought about international travel in 2022 and I replied we have no plans to leave North America until 2023. It's possible things will be sorted out sooner but these new variants are causing unexpected lockdowns everywhere. I keep trying to remind myself the Spanish Flu (originating in Kansas) lasted three years before it burned itself out. We are doing better than that, so far.
Meanwhile check out these sunsets, lovely products of humidity in the air.
And of course I got used to the pandemic restrictions forcing me to see trees as origami silhouetted against the flaming sky.
We are lucky down here.
We live well.
My dog, my wife, my dog, my van, my camera, my great good fortune.