The day had been unconscionably hot. Humidity hung like a haze over the day’s plans and lowered my productivity. I’d worked my tractor as much as I dared and then shut it down to cool. (The same heat that affects me will affect a machine. There’s nothing heroic about abusing equipment; especially equipment which is an expensive bitch to repair and maintain.)
By late afternoon, clouds had built up. It was still muggy and uncomfortable but the dam would burst in due time. Sooner or later rain would cool things down.
Fretting over lost work hours (I have more to do than time to do it) I made a heroic last stand at the woodshed. Covered with sweat and sawdust I used my little electric chainsaw to buck a small pile of limbwood I’d stashed on the sawbuck. Soon I had it stacked in the woodshed and was pleased to have made progress against the ever present specter of winter. (I’m impressed with the saw. I’d run one battery down and half of another battery without overheating the motor; though the handle did get a bit warm. I grudgingly admit a non-gas saw is darned handy for small jobs.)
By then I was all worked out. I took shelter inside. I wasn’t in the sweltering sun but it still wasn’t particularly cool. Folks might not believe it but not every building has central AC. I hydrated and consoled myself that I’d worked pretty well for my age. I’d been reluctantly but reasonably wise about it. When I was 19 I’d have accomplished twice as much, but I’d have likely overtaxed myself and spent the next day or two burned out.
A little before sunset I decided I needed ice cream. Had I not worked? Did I not deserve a reward? The rain hadn’t materialized and, if I hurried, the nearest ice cream shop would still be open. I hopped on my motorcycle and scooted away.
I have a protective mesh jacket that’s ideal in these circumstances. I bought it for a ride across Death Valley many years ago and always like when I can use it. It’s useless in all but the worst heat so rarely get to wear it. After a long bitter winter and an ugly spring that was nearly as bad as winter, it felt great to wear my “desert jacket”. I let the winds flow through the mesh and felt the efforts of the day ebbing from my core.
Ice cream is delicious, especially if you earned it. I felt like a kid again. I remembered hot days stacking hay bales and the ensuing ice cream cones. Then again, I’m very glad I don’t have to stack hay bales. All hail hydraulics and round bales!
I sat in the ice cream shop, which had better air conditioning than I’d left, and idly read a book. Not a Kindle download either. It was a plain old dead tree paperback. An old sci-fi book from 1976; written before science fiction got weak and crawled up its own ass. I’d read it before but was nonetheless consumed with the story.
Eventually it dawned on me that I was the only one in the ice cream shop. They were pointedly mopping the floor in my direction. I pulled myself out of the story and, mumbling apologies, shuffled for the door.
I stepped from that ice cream shop into a different world.
Stay tuned…