August is approaching, and summer is at the peak of its brutality. These days, I start running by 4:30am, awakened 30-50 minutes earlier by either profound sweatiness from the humidity in our bedroom, or the drone of the air conditioner in our semi-humid bedroom. My runs are slower, longer in duration, and exclusively on trails, so it’s good to get an early start; by 5:45, the bugs become a real issue. Countless gnats have died in the sweat on my face this week.
After many mornings spent trudging along in a 70-degree dew point, I’m waiting for the humidity acclimatization to kick in but I still arrive home every morning, my clothes completely drenched in sweat. Fall is going to feel so good.
Pond in local conservation land. Funny how you can’t see the mosquitos engulfing me.
When we can, we escape to the mountains.
Vermont Green Mountain sunrise
Little Boy (who is certainly no longer little, and barely still a boy) detests the summer even more than me. He talks longingly of winter and would be content to spend the duration of summer indoors, in conditioned air. He asks when we are upgrading to central air. Bugs can make him fly into a brief rage.
Hiking on ski trails when he’d rather be snowboarding
Summer is coming to a bittersweet close. Soon the humidity and bugs will be a memory, and the darkness, ice, and wind will become the forces of nature that I dread.
At least there’s flowers
