A Festive Occlusion

Clouds arrived to let the sunset streak the sky orange, and I woke from an unintended nap to see it. The light is gone now, but the clouds are still there, and the blurry moon, just risen, is looking like a reflection of itself in a blue-gray frozen pond. The freeze is entirely visual, though. The night is warm again. As a background tone to the chirping of the crickets I hear the first cicadas of the year. They have arrived early. They must love the heat.

If the clouds get thick enough, they will hold in all night whatever portion of the day's heat that has not escaped through their diminishing gaps. I celebrate every patch of starry sky, and encourage them to linger as long as possible. The clouds will have the final word, though, and no imprecation of mine will dissuade them. There is some chance of a thunderstorm tomorrow, and if there is I expect to see the raindrops evaporate into steam above the heated asphalt of the streets. The sight would almost be worth the discomfort of a sultry day— but not quite.

Tomorrow I must go to the chiropractor to get my head yanked, and I fear that I might have made that more difficult with my unintended nap. Between that and the heat, I will have a hard time sleeping tonight. Tomorrow could end up being another air conditioning day. It will certainly be a trash day, and I must take the wheelie bin out to the street before the neighbors have gone to sleep. It's very noisy going down the driveway, even when I push it slowly.

Fruit only for dinner. There is casaba. Maybe I'll have a small sandwich for a midnight snack, with some beer that might help me sleep. Oh, July.