Dear hearts and gentle people

I thought it was hot in Texas but compared to the weather that greeted us when we got home last week, it's still winter in Texas. I broke a sweat yesterday and all I did was walk out the door....at 7:30 in the morning.

And no, it has nothing to do with global warming. It's the south and we all know why it's so hot in the south...the humidity. And other than the fact I sweat like a field hand before daylight how do I know if the humidity is high?

Well, one way to tell is that my cousin turns into Little Orphan Annie. Her normally wavy hair shrinks up into little corkscrew curls so tight her head looks like a pot scrubber.

But I digress. My point is that, though not officially, summer has arrived. My favorite season is autumn, of course, I find joy in huddling by the fire in winter, I like to see flowers bloom in spring, but I simply tolerate the summer heat. Hot weather and I don't mix well. There are certain things I just find harder to do in the summer months.... like breathing.

There are, however, lots of things I love about summer and each one conjures up a bit of my past and makes me teary-eyed at the very thought of them.

Granted, if I were, say about....well, a few pounds lighter I'm sure I would be less inclined to sweat. Pardon me, I just remembered what my favorite teacher used to say, "Farm animals sweat, men perspire, but women glow."

When it's 100 degrees in the shade, I could light up the night sky of Lincolnton the way I glow.

Swimming used to be such fun and an ever-present way to cool off during June, July, and August but I can't say I even remember the last time I set foot in a swimming pool. It must have been years ago. I missed a great opportunity to lounge in the water a month or so ago when a few of us middle-aged girl groupies gathered at the lake for a pajama party.

Sadly, in packing I realized that my swimming suit had a hole in the knee and I hadn't time to purchase another. Darn.

I unearthed an old trunk of high school mementos and found a two piece bathing suit I wore when I was about 16. I tried it on. The bottom made a nice anklet and the bra a puffy, cheery headband.

Ahhh. The summers of my youth. Sitting on the front porch listening to the tree frogs. Filling up jars with lightning bugs, then pinching off their little tails to make magnificient sparkling rings.

Using a mirror to deflect sunlight and stir-fry mounds of unsuspecting ants.

Homemade ice-cream, ice-cold watermelon, lemonade, the smell of fresh cut grass....

Lemon sours from the Tastee Freeze, cherry cokes from the drugstore soda fountain, canned boiled peanuts and strawberry Kool-Aid.

Heat rash, sunburn, eating dirt (yes, I did and so did you), fresh tomatoes, charcoal grills, star gazing, peanuts inside a bottle of Coca-Cola, chiggers and calamine lotion.

I remember when every passer-by extended an index finger from the steering wheel or nodded in greeting, or if they knew you, tooted the horn.

Gaggles of kids screaming and laughing, flopping side to side in the backs of pick-up trucks going Godknows where.

I remember sweet tea, fried catfish, mud puddles, smoking catawba cigars (my cousin Jerald taught me that), swimming at the park, the smell of suntan lotion, sound of the courthouse clock at noon, church bells on Sunday, Vacation Bible School during the week, shelling butterbeans and gnawing fresh corn on the cob that was slathered in butter.

Fried fatback with potato soup and cornbread, the taste and smell of honeysuckle, summer gardens filled with squash, peppers, and slimy okra. And 'nanner pudding so good it'd make ya wanta slap yer grandma!

Cool steady rains, soft chennile bedspreads that left pockmarks on your face when you woke up from a sweat-infused nap.

Summertime in the south. Jawja in particular. It's something special. Don't take it lightly. Sit back, slice yo'self a piece of watermelon, bite into it and let the cool juice drool all down your shirt. September will be here before you know it.