My tennis player is playing outside this morning. They began at 8, but I suspect they are feeling the temperature. I’m in the gazebo with the overhead fan moving the air; it’s almost pleasant.

My day began in the garden where I tied up the tomato plants. I wore my gardening shirt (long sleeves) and jeans. Mosquitoes lie in wait there, and I’ve learned about covering up any possible avenue of invasion. I tie a big handkerchief, hippie-style, around my forehead, and I probably discourage the bugs as much by my bizarre appearance as the lack of open skin. It was only 80 degrees when I got back inside to put on cooler duds.

When I was a child, I never seemed to notice the heat. Our family trips to the lake were made in a car without A/C, 6 people, a big dog, coolers, boxes of food, suitcases, and open windows. We sang, in harmony, all the good old songs, did lots of playful scuffling, and tried to get Dad to stop at the DQ in Brainerd. He had a back road to avoid Paul Bunyan land, and we were told we “couldn’t get there from here.” The fact that by then we were only 30 minutes from the cabin made that work for him.

I do believe this summer is hotter than those summers, but it was what it was. We knew the respite of the water, but I don’t recall feeling the heat as I do now. Therefore, there is more of it this summer.

I do think about those for whom there is no relief from this hot time. I wish for them a sprinkler through which to run, or a mall to walk, or a break in the weather. After all, this is Minnesota where temperature change is abrupt and comfort could be just minutes away.