Summer Air.
There is no summer in an air-conditioned house,
only the perpetual cool dry purgatory of comfort-zone simplicity.
Central air pumped day and night through aluminum veins.
Atmosphere robbed of its natural existence.
An artificial ether.
Dead air.
My pumpkin-colored cat once caught a rabbit feeding on rutabaga in the backyard – the rabbit ended up decapitated in the sunflower patch.
My dog once jumped the fence, headed north, and was never heard from again.
I once took a long walk in the mountains with 3 friends and came very close to a moose reclining in a vlei.
I know of a guy who once was arrested in Peru with 450 tropical frogs and a selection of unusual beetles in his luggage – he claimed he wanted to start a zoo.
These are animals that are out there.
They are out and about.
They are out in the fresh air.
They are out in god’s green earth.
They are out of the house.
They are out and out out.
Summer is not meant to be escaped from, like a lackluster neighbor or a Jehovah’s Witness.
Summer is not meant to be hidden from, like an angry dog or an irritated spouse.
Summer is, summer is,
summer is for the feel of itchy grass on the backs of the knees.
For the smell of gasoline and cut lawn.
For the sound of birds and ice-cream trucks.
For the experience of shielding your eyes from the sun as the heron flies over your head.
For walking through the dew-soaked morning lawn.
For feeling the sweat bead on your brow as you pull at the weeds in the garden.
For the satisfaction of a carbonated beverage quenching your thirst after a romp with the kids in the yard.
For how can the grass itch in your bedroom?
How can the smell of cut lawn waft through a closed window?
How can you commune with the birds through a picture-laden wall?
How can your carpet collect dew?
And how can the beverage satisfy if you were not getting hot and thirsty in the out and out out?
