It's another day of predicted 90-degree highs and several rounds of rain. I have no desire to visit the tropics, so why are they visiting me? There's nothing better than standing in the yard with Oakley and feeling the mist blessing my face at dawn. There's nothing worse than the damp weight of the air crushing me in the late afternoon.
The house has picked up so much solar gain that cooling it is a losing battle. Maybe the cloudy hours of this morning will act as a compress, like a cold cloth on a feverish forehead.
I don't want to wish time away. Just this weather.