WordSisters

We were planning to have dinner outside and listen to a musical group. Should be an ideal evening with temps in the very low 80s. Even the mosquitos have called a partial truce. One bad apple in the perfect plan is humidity which is making 80 feel like 90. The second bad apple is a gradual lowering of Canadian wildfire smoke into Wisconsin’s Northern zones.  Iced tea will melt quickly, clothes will stick, and someone will begin coughing or wheezing. 

The morning was excellent after a rough bunch of storms and rain cleaned out the atmosphere last night. Walking on a nearly empty beach at ten this morning with bright blue sky and sparkling water felt like a summer dream. The toddler with us, spending her first days of walking into very shallow Lake Michigan waters, celebrated with digging in the sand, pouring water on anything, jumping tiny waves with help from adults. Two hours for summer 2023 memories.

That’s how the whole season has played out—like slurping a slug of pickle brine from your glass of lemonade. Do you dump the drink, try to add something in hopes of a more enjoyable beverage, or accept the situation?

Or is the pickle brine just an emotional reminder of the true state of the bigger world—global warming and the U.S. state of unrest? Keeping to a summer theme is challenging and heading to dinner out with music in the background, even in sauna-like conditions could provide relief from week’s tensions.

Then the heavens opened. Rain lashed against windows. Wind whipped flowers and trees. Thunder rumbled over the bay waters. Power went out at the restaurant. So, we ate leftovers at our kitchen table, talking and laughing at what the toddler was trying to say. Temperatures dropped to low 70s as storms disappeared. The gift of a typical summer experience. No pickle brine in the last of the lemonade.