Summer feels like the gift that keeps on punishing. Summer's date hath all too long a lease.
Saturday afternoon, I went outside and it was hot and dry and windy and the sky was white with smoke from fires in California.
The post apocalyptic feeling was only intensified when I surveyed my zucchini plant that was crawling with aphids. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I had Adam unhook the water to the zucchini. It was the vegetable equivalent of being put down.
I'm done.
Once school starts, I'm over it. Can't it just be autumn? I don't want to water my flower pots any more. It shows.
Last week, one of my students was humming Jingle Bells. I said, "We should all sing Christmas songs because maybe the weather will get colder."
"Wait," one of them said. "Is it almost Christmas?"
I said no.
But I wish it were.
I miss complaining about the cold.
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