Sultry

Yesterday I did not have to spend a lot of time out of doors. When I opened the front door to get the mail a heavy blanket of hot stifling humidity shrouded me and edged its way into the house. Sultry. The glass screen on the fireplace had a condensation film the rest of the day.

The dehumidifier in the basement needed to be emptied twice yesterday. Usually once is enough. And for the first time, the sweater I'm making for Rick felt unwelcome on my lap. (Although I suppose it is a good sign that it is getting bigger. I have knitted back to the point where I am making increases for the under arm gussets).

Today I woke to weather warnings of severe thunderstorms and hail coming our direction. At this late hour, the sensor lights are all still glowing. As Rick heads out the door all the outdoor sultry seeps into the kitchen. Rick has the headlights on as he drives off to the office.

The only accurate descriptor is sultry. The word echoed through my head each time I looked outside yesterday. I hoped the feeling would be gone before I needed to go out on today's errands.

I took a short break from typing to pick the first harvest of my second crop of lettuce this year. Outside the crickets are still singing like it is nine in the evening. The lettuce looks better than the first crop. Deep deer tracks are in the mud in the garden. They are so deep that the deer slipped and skidded a little with one leg. And there are some muddy deer tracks on the driveway -- I've never seen that before. But the thunder clap brings rain and the tracks will be washed away before I can get a photo.

Now there is thunder and lightning and the sound of silverware dropping from the heavens onto the aluminum awnings over the west windows. Sultry will be staying for a while.