“‘Summer afternoon,’ the two most beautiful words.”

This summer’s transient heat waves and droughts bring now dread of the future as the global temperature continues its relentless rise, fed on the feast of Methane and CO2 the bankers continue to serve up.

For me it also brings memories of childhood summer days and nights.  A child of the Drought and Dust of Oklahoma  I know of  afternoon heat so great one is sapped of strength and will, even the children brought to inside shade and lemonde, Harry Carey in the background describing the play of Stan Musial and the Cardinals and his little boy Skippy.

Play and exploration of  nature and the land had to be done in the relative cool of the morning  English Sparrows taking dust baths and a horned toad scurrying raising her own cloud to our shouts of “Hurry home Momma.”  The songs of the birds always seemed to represent promise of a cooler day and perhaps even rain.   I find such a reference of my Gramma’s letter in 1935. “I heard a mockingbird singing his heart out this morning. Maybe this old drought is about to break.”

Share my memory and Listen to the Mockingbird.

For Henry James