Hot as Hot

     “HOT AS HOT” was the TV weather report this morning.  The map behind the cheery meteorologist proclaimed “SEVERE STORMS.”  We woke to rumbling thunder.  The sky got darker and darker, till it looked like the last moment of twilight before night falls. 

     The dog was frantic.  He always is when there’s thunder.  He pants and wants to be very close to us, wherever we go.  Into the closet?  Closet’s fine.  Into the bathroom?  Bathroom’s good.  Stretched out on the bed?  He’s there between us, parked largely on my husband’s arm.  Dog and I delayed our morning walk because of the thunder and the crashing rain that eventually came with it. 

     But the rain cleared up, the thunder went away, the wind calmed down, and we walked.  The temperature was pleasant outside.  At first.  Before too long, off came my raincoat.  By the time we got back home, the temperature had risen ten degrees.  I was sticky.  The dog was wet, from rolling in the wet grass to cool down and from lying in it for the same reason.  He felt that the longer it took to get back to the house today, the more rolling was called for.

     Last week at this time, we were not hot.  We stayed in a cottage on Saginaw Bay—in the webbing between the thumb and index finger of the left hand shape of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula.  One of our daughters stayed there with us, along with her daughter and her daughter’s husband.  Mason had never seen a great lake before.  We did our best to assure him that he had still not seen one. 

     The bay was sheltered, nestled into the landscape.  It produced nary a wave in the days we were there, which included quite a storm.  We wanted to take Mason to a beach that wasn’t on the bay, somewhere he could walk on the sand and get a true sense of Lake Huron. You couldn’t walk the shore where we were; it was mostly private breakwaters.  The marina didn’t have a beach either.   Somehow, the trip to a real beach didn’t work itself into the schedule—he and our granddaughter were working remotely–and he checked “great lake” off his list, having only seen the bay.  Sigh.

     I checked something off my list at another granddaughter’s wedding last Saturday:  getting food from a food truck.  The bride and groom decided that tacos were their favorite food, so they invited a taco truck to feed the wedding guests.  And, just to keep things interesting, the tacos all had a Korean twist.  Mine had kimchi on top.  It was delicious.  Hot, but not hot as hot.  I foresee more food trucks in our future.

     The dog had a barking fit just now.  There was no accompanying knock at the door, so we didn’t investigate right away.  When we did, we found a bag of zucchini on the porch.  That’s right, the stealth zucchini season is starting in the middle of June this summer.  Anonymous zucchini drops don’t usually happen till later, when people’s gardens start producing.  Must be global warming.

     Something else arrived at our door this week, while I was out with the dog.  This one came with a knock.  Fortunately, my husband was here to receive Anne’s gift:  a bouquet of peonies.  I love peonies.  They were part of the sight and smell of childhood.  Our mom used to send us to school with bouquets of peonies from the garden to give to our teachers.  The scent of peonies perfumed our classrooms as well as our home.

     Today, the scent of peonies is the second thing you notice as you enter the house, with relative coolness being the first.  Also, the flowers are gorgeous.  A mass of pale pink in a shapely green glass vase.  I’m sure Anne wants her vase back when the blooms are finished, but I appreciate why she brought the flowers already in it.  The pale pink and the blue green are glorious together.

     I’d been admiring peonies all around the neighborhood, breathing in their scent and wishing for a bouquet of them.  I hadn’t shared the wish with anyone.  It was my secret heart’s desire.  And apparently God was listening.  Peonies are generous flowers, and Anne’s gift is doubly so, as it springs of her own generosity.

     We are surrounded by beauty in Michigan in the spring.  In the other seasons as well, but it’s spring now and loveliness is everywhere, before our eyes and fragrant on the breeze.  Even when it’s hot as hot, it feels like a privilege to live here. 

17 June 2022