We're coming into the home stretch, when the long days grow shorter and the heat begins to escape us. I'm jumping the gun a little bit, but after so many hundred degree days over the past month, the weather lately feels down right fall like, with days that are merely warm, not scorching, and nights that are downright cool. Running in the mornings is enjoyable again (even as late as seven am!), so is walking the dogs in the afternoon, and the garden is finally growing.
I say all this on a day that reached a high of 94 degrees.
We have been watching the Olympics, along with much of America, I suppose, and I will jump on the band wagon with them and express my disappointment in NBC's failure to show the events as they happen. Facebook is fraught with spoilers, and my email keeps lighting up with updates from various news sources. There's no hope for magical surprises at this rate. We've been recording the nightly digest and sharing it with Calvin sans ads during dinner or the late afternoon lull. It's better without ads, but he's pretty crushed that they don't show all the medal ceremonies. He's drinking in the swimming. Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte are names that slip right off our tongues these days, and they've injected him with extra enthusiasm for his own lessons. This may be our first look at something like hero worship.
We dedicate the remaining month of summer to soaking up the warm rays of the sun. To hikes, and bird watching, and fun. And ice cream.
