Like the hazy Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby, I always wait for the longest day of the year then forget and miss it. Hard not to miss the longest hottest week of the year. The haze descended on my brain and it’s all burned off. Out twice along West River Drive on Greg (3rd gen beater bike, whose seat is busted & keeps me standing a lot) to see if the Kelly Pool behind Memorial Hall is filled. After the long steep wind up Briar Rd. Hill to realize in the distance that it is empty. You have to laugh, like lunging toward an oasis. Or maybe it’s heatstroke, Only one thing to do and that is try to run hills, because it makes you feel so disgustingly hot, that the rest of the day seems cooler. For this Sisyphusian drill- up and down, forward and backward- with the assurance that air-conditioned motorists think you are a loon.
Missed Solstice, not because of the bourbon Daisy was still having, but ushered in two days late in the form of a 70 mph wind drive that dropped the temperature 20 degrees in ninety seconds, only to be steamier later that night, it finally feels like summer. I was trying to write something that would crack the mental dust & fury and noticed that the room was a lot darker, and then I heard a swish of the trees so I immediately went out to feel the storm advance. Rain moving seemingly every which way except straight down, swirling wet bands that were lashing me back in the doorway. Fabulous summer is here and there is nothing to be done really except to keep an eye out for those green lights off East Egg.