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  • Kathleen Gill



It is suddenly summer here in Florida. Mornings have turned sultry. There’s a warm heaviness to the air, threaded with the mild scent of jasmine, and even before dawn one can feel the low rumble of thunderstorms building far out in the Gulf. By noon, the searing heat is unbearable.  A loud chorus of crickets sings its tribute to the season – a throbbing one-note chant. By late afternoon, all that energy has been captured in onshore thunderheads and is released in a torrent of rain, followed by near-sauna conditions.

There are precious few options for beating the heat. One can simply stay inside, of course – an option that was not available before air conditioning came, none-too-soon, to the southern states. Minimizing clothing helps a bit, and old-timers advise against any type of physical activity while the sun is high. Of course, the very best way to forget about temperature is to simply get wet.

When I was young, my sister and I and the neighborhood kids played a brilliant guessing game. We sat cross-legged in a circle. One child announced that she was thinking of something, a color for instance. Each child then, in circular order, had a chance to guess what that color might be. If you guessed it correctly, a thimble full of ice-cold water was abruptly delivered to your face. It was exhilarating, we dissolved into giggles and the heat was forgotten in no time.


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