Sweltering, according to a dictionary, is “uncomfortably hot.” And that’s all the description we needed to describe days when all you had to do to work up a sweat was sit still.

In my experience, the worst days of summer arrive when the corn is high and the earth’s respiration goes straight from the fields to the clouds.

I’m grateful the month started out below average in my part of the Midwest. My sisters gathered for our “weekend” together, visiting each other and relatives from both our parents’ families.

Cool temperatures prevailed in the weeks that followed. I, for one, enjoyed the respite from typical summer temperatures.

My mind gets sluggish in heat. I’m much happier in winter when I can pile on blankets and sweaters and sip hot cocoa and lots of tea. In summer, I try to drink lots of cool water, but even in AC, ice melts pretty fast at my house.

My three sisters are much more outdoorsy than I am — to their credit and their health. They all kayak and hike and pickleball. They never lost the art of play. I guess I was always the serious kid. I liked some sports, including swimming, but one after another, they slipped from my routine after my jobs grew more distant and my commute locked me in my car from forty to one hundred twenty miles daily. The girl who loved to ride her bike to a park with a book, find a shady spot and read easily switched her loyalty to audio books.

Today, I just hope to keep my electrical use to a minimum until sunset. Then I may walk out to check the mail and run the washer. And I need to put “new clothesline” on my shopping list. No reason to run the dryer if I don’t have to.

I find the idea of understanding meterological terms and measures much more fascinating than living through them. I’m still grappling with dew points versus humidity as a way to measure relative air comfort, but I keep trying.

And I understand sweltering just fine.

À bientôt!