"What dreadful hot weather we have!
It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance. "
The summer heat has been harsh, has it not? Last week I reached the point where I "had-it-up-to-here" with the sultry, sweltering season. Because I am a fall girl, through and through, summer is always so shocking. At no other time of the year does the afternoon’s journey across the parking lot to the 108 degree car become less of a walk and more of a swim. With a humidity saturation that climbs throughout the day until it equals the 99 degree high temperature, what else can one expect?
People who easily tan love the summer; quite the opposite, I burn and peel. People who are cold-natured dream of June, July, and August; I sweat…pardon me, I perspire about twice that of the average human being. Gym rats don’t mind the soaring heat index as they pump their iron indoors. I, on the other hand, loathe the treadmill. So if the 10.5N Asics aren’t laced by 5:30 a.m. – they probably won’t get laced at all.
As August brings the final stretch of summer our way, I felt it was appropriate to give summer at least a little praise. “Why I Fall For Fall” was written so effortlessly. An attempt at “Why I Savor Summer” leaves my fingertips stuttering, hesitating atop this barren keyboard.
But alas, one day last week while swimming through the parking lot, I did think of one delight: that of the Summer Concert Series. Most towns have them and typically, they won’t cost you a dime. I am lucky enough to choose between the Hopeland Gardens Series in Aiken, Candlelight Jazz on the banks of the Savannah River or my all-time favorite: Evenings in the Appleby Garden.
Kristi, April, Ashley and I were there to enjoy Montana Skies on the back lawn of the Appleby Library a couple of months ago. I’ve followed these two musicians for years now and love the fact that Augusta remains on their tour schedule. They met at UGA. He plays classical guitar. She plays cello. Such an unusual combination…so unusual that neither Bach nor Beethoven ever paired them together. So they took matters into their own hands and wrote their own scores. Then they married and wrote more music and recorded, too. I love them because they can stretch from the classical to the modern in the blink of an eye, playing Satie one moment and Pink Floyd the next.
It was the day after the summer solstice and the sun hung in the sky a little longer than usual. Eventually he set, as a cello and a guitar gently coaxed him to do so. Two musicians poured out their passion on the steps of an 1830’s Greek Revival home and for almost two hours, I enjoyed a candle-lit tablescape (thank you for the flowers, April!), three dear friends and some pretty marvelous music.
It was one of those nights that even the girl who has to be sold on summer will tell you: it doesn’t get much better than this. Digging deep, it just might be that she discovers a little love for summer after all.