This is a photo of a rock in my backyard, one of many in the town where I live. It’s actually more than just a rock; it’s a boulder and what you’re seeing is just the tip. The rest of this massive rock is underground and a section twice as big as what’s visible above ground takes up one corner of the very rear portion of our basement workshop/laundry room. So common are these large rocks that there are areas in my neighborhood with names like Rockcliff Estates, Rockingstone, Rocky Hollow and Rock Ridge.
In the middle of the rock is a fairly large patch of moss; that is something new, brought about by the recent extreme humidity and lack of sun. The branches of our Kousa dogwood tree are drooping lower than ever; even I, the vertically-challenged member of the family, need to duck under the branches when walking in the yard. It’s the thick dampness in the air that’s weighing down tree branches and plants. Canadian smoke hangs suspended in the atmosphere; it’s surreal.
We’ve been stuck in this weather pattern here in New York since mid-June. It’s oppressive. The unforgiving trifecta of summer – haze, heat and humidity with daily on again/off again rain – is relentless and leaves us feeling drained and on edge. Our clothes and bed covers are warm and damp. The AC helps, of course, but the wetness lingers, and makes everything now feel cold and damp. There’s no escaping it; even the birds hide in the shade of thick bushes. It’s eerily quiet and still outside.
It feels like I’m living in the middle of a Tennessee Williams play. I could really use a mint julep served in a hammered copper mug with generous amounts of bourbon and shaved ice.
NAR © 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 