WordSisters

Tag: summer

  • The Season Flies In

    This week climate change, in small letters, has had people’s attention. After days of steadily increasing temperatures,  humidity and Canadian wildflower smoke, a storm blew in with rain. Not enough rain to make up for dry conditions, but far better than none. The rain dragged in a weather front that returned days to cool temps. Kids wore light jackets for their spring field and track events or school picnics. Luckily in the Midwest bugs appeared to delay opening shop even though Memorial Day had passed.

    Lake Michigan adds unique weather games into the seasonal change. Seventy some degrees near Green Bay’s shoreline and ten degrees cooler on the Lake Michigan side. A wardrobe in your car’s trunk is not a bad idea. Kids are paddling around in Lake Michigan’s bay area waters while parents, bundled in long pants with long sleeve shirts, watch. All water surrounding Door County’s coast need to warm before humans should spend more than minutes with wet feet.

    In the Midwest spring turns to summer when bugs challenge enjoyment of outdoor activities. Now small black flies and mosquitos flex their biting powers in the time between real day hours and evening. People wrap bare legs in blankets, slip on long-sleeve tops, bum bug spray from others. Or they retreat to a screen porch or escape indoors. One day bugs were not present, then they fill the air in buzzing fronts of tiny air forces ready to sting humans.  

    Mid-fifties temperatures along with a stiff breeze changing everything again in morning. Sundresses and flip flops disappear. Jeans, sweatshirts and shoes come back. Once red bumps and itchy lumps come home from an after dinner walk and ant hills cover sidewalk cracks, spring is over, and summer’s dominance has begun. Try not to begrudge days slathered with sunscreen and topped with bug spray. It’s what we accept for not grabbing something warm to wear every time stepping outside a home or car. 

  • 80. Feels like 90.

    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.