Stifling

I want someone to bring me a glass of homemade lemonade and then sit down in the shade and tell me a story. Even though I'm holed up indoors with the a/c keeping out the heat and humidity, I still feel the oppression of the weather and want old time relief. What did we ever do when nothing was air conditioned? Suffered, that's what.

June 23--John James Audubon, Whooping Crane. Hot and still. The only sounds were made by the insects, bees and flies going about their business, and the swish-plop of frogs fleeing the tall, white crane that patiently worked the edge of the slough. Caleb drifted in his canoe, paddle laid across the gunwales for use as an armrest, pouring water from his canteen over his sweaty face, allowing a few drops to moisten his tongue. He wiped his face with his faded bandanna, then retied it to keep the back of his neck from getting sunburned. This time of day the bayou was the quietest, just past midday when the air was the most still and storm clouds began to pile up on the horizon before racing across the sky just before sunset. This was the time when Caleb knew that he was where he belonged. That he was meant to live here in this land that was half water, half air, and all wild.


--Barbara