Think neglected backyards.
Think cicadas chattering shrill noises back and forth in the trees, all day long. (See the shell of one attached to the little cement stand?)
Think shields inside car windows.
Think quiet, empty streets void of activity.
That's south Texas in August.
It's more than hot. Plants may not know it, but they are headed for trash heaps; their burnt edges give telltale signs of an unquenched thirst.
I try to have mercy...if it comes to mind. Yesterday, I rose early enough to water the brown grass before the sun could give last rites.
I have to say, I am never sad to see summer go. High temperatures get the best of most people, so that even sun lovers are writing farewell notes in the sand. Actually it's kind of melancholic. Beaches rejected for classrooms and picnic baskets for lunch kits. The change is inevitable.
Down here, though...the season begins in March - at least for me. Beaches are still empty and the cold water welcomes my toes. We are months from that, with fun in the meantime. Still there is something about looking on that horizon - always good things to come.
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| This was one of those early Spring visits. |
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| Until we meet again... |
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