The sun is getting up later and retiring earlier these days.
It makes me feel sad, because calendar-wise, I know we are headed toward Fall and colder weather, even though we are still immersed in this relentless heat wave and it feels hot enough to bake a batch of cookies on your car’s dashboard.
Despite the sun’s later a.m. arrival, I was still up and at ‘em, ready to shake a leg and get out on my four-mile walk to hopefully beat that oppressive heat.
But that quick pace I may have had as I headed out the door, quickly dwindled as that pale sun that was filtering down, suddenly got stronger and it was downright hot.
As I headed down Emmons Boulevard, I found myself hopscotching here and there to dodge wayward sprinkler systems, fresh concrete on many of the City sidewalks and also to seek the shadiest part of the route. The Wyandotte portion of Emmons Boulevard is mostly all shade. In some places, there are so many trees that they form a canopy, offering complete shade to the walkers, joggers, bikers and pooches that frequent the street each morning. Unfortunately, I must also pass through portions in Lincoln Park, where there are no trees and I find myself at the mercy of Mr. Sun.
The back of my neck, and my arms from where my tee-shirt sleeves end, have got a little glow going from the morning sun, nothing dark, but enough to look a tad healthier than the Swiss-cheese look that I generally sport. In contrast, however, I look like a paleface when I pass the many concrete workers on the Boulevard. As I approach each group of them, all I see are white teeth in their smiling faces, and muscular arms and rippled chests under white tank shirts which are in stark contrast to their dark skin from toiling in the sun all Summer long. Today I saw Jenny, our mail carrier, and she, too, was brown as a berry. Her long, dark hair, usually in a plait or a bun, was wrapped in a tropical scarf and she was wearing shades. When I quipped that she looked like she had just returned from an island vacation, she rolled her eyes and said “I can hardly wait ‘til Fall” … in the meantime, these days are speeding by and tomorrow will be two minutes and sixteen seconds shorter than today.
So, tomorrow, when you take on the day, take a deep breath, a big swig of water and try not to melt into a pool in the process.