|Monday, just after high noon.|
So as not to go blind, I did not look through the viewfinder.
I'll say July has come in like a truck full of habanero peppers. Make that a truck engulfed in flames -- and full of habanero peppers.
OK. It's been hot.
My family and I missed summer's fiery entrance here. We were visiting relatives in Minnesota, Washington state and northern Idaho (all a more than momentary joy). In those northern climes, summer hadn't quite got up to speed. In Idaho, we even broke out jackets.
At church on Sunday, before the sun served up 96 degrees, a friend asked me his version of, "Hot enough for you?"
In a slightly wilted tone, I replied that yes, it was more than hot enough.
His response rejuvenated me.
The smile on his face widened as he explained how much enjoys this weather. It feels, he said, like home.
I should mention that he comes from Nigeria.
Arms gesturing, and in his beautifully lilting accent, he said he just loves the heat, loves being able to do things outside (not like during our bitter winters). Mostly, it seemed, he loves this warm memory of his home country.
What a refreshing attitude.
I will try to remember his smiling face next time the 90s, and even the 100s, pay us an extended visit.
There's no place like home.