Summertime
Aug. 4th, 2005 01:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhEveryone knows my feelings about the weather, no matter how I try to refrain from telling you all, once again, that summer is simply the best season there is. Because, after all, repetition is boring, and I need to be wildly interesting so that I might get comments and thus have my existence validated.
But. I have to make at least one post in ode to summer. Because there's a wordless, bone-deep pleasure in riding in a car with all the windows down so the roar of the air overpowers the radio and conversation, and all you can hear is the air rushing past your ears, cool from its speed even though you can still feel its warmth, whipping your hair until it stings your face. Fireflies and crickets and sunsets after 9pm, days that go on for so long that it seems like night will never come. And the colors of summer: everything is so rich and deep that it feels gaudy and extravagant; the deep denim blue of the sky and the million shades of green and the way roads shimmer in the distance with mirages of water. The crunch of dead grass, yellow-brown and stiff enough to feel even through the soles of shoes. Stars that the damp turns into a haze against the soft indigo of the night sky. I love sweat that runs like water from the back of knees and the crook of elbows, skin that tastes like salt, turning brown as caramelized sugar.
And the contrasts, too- hours in the heat are all worth it for how very, very good it feels the first instant back in air-conditioning. Or how the humidity and sweat and stickiness turn a shower into something that feels like being born again, when you feel so fresh and cool and clean afterward that you could be brand new.
Okay. Now I'm done.
But. I have to make at least one post in ode to summer. Because there's a wordless, bone-deep pleasure in riding in a car with all the windows down so the roar of the air overpowers the radio and conversation, and all you can hear is the air rushing past your ears, cool from its speed even though you can still feel its warmth, whipping your hair until it stings your face. Fireflies and crickets and sunsets after 9pm, days that go on for so long that it seems like night will never come. And the colors of summer: everything is so rich and deep that it feels gaudy and extravagant; the deep denim blue of the sky and the million shades of green and the way roads shimmer in the distance with mirages of water. The crunch of dead grass, yellow-brown and stiff enough to feel even through the soles of shoes. Stars that the damp turns into a haze against the soft indigo of the night sky. I love sweat that runs like water from the back of knees and the crook of elbows, skin that tastes like salt, turning brown as caramelized sugar.
And the contrasts, too- hours in the heat are all worth it for how very, very good it feels the first instant back in air-conditioning. Or how the humidity and sweat and stickiness turn a shower into something that feels like being born again, when you feel so fresh and cool and clean afterward that you could be brand new.
Okay. Now I'm done.
