They’ve been calling it a heat dome. I’ve been calling it simply, “OMG!”
Temperatures soaring above 100° for weeks on end, stealing color from the grass, nourishment from the soil and peace from the inner-spirit. Farmer’s have cursed the relentless ignition of the summer sun, robbing their field of crops and their pockets of income. The unprecedented swelter of 2011 has blanketed middle America for weeks on end with no end in sight.
Through the dog days of summer what little refuge to be found was a small room with the little air conditioner that could — a treasure box of cool air filling the space with escape.
Day after blistering day the dogs would look up, their eyes screaming, “You have got to be kidding me!” Together we fought the battle of summer in that little paradise of coolness, clinging to the little respite and counting the days until the blazing sun would release her scorching grip.
Today the rains came to intervene. The sweet smell of rainwater sifting through the leaves was like perfume, an aroma missing for far too long. The loud crack of thunder and flashing spark signaled a line drawn in the heavens. The rain played hero this morning and I sat on the porch in wonderment and watched puddles dance a celebration of victory, each droplet a little orb of hope for the next coming day.