Dog Days of Summer

Photo credit: Laura Feeney

Summer in Minnesota has us stocking up on charcoal when it is in sale because we grill everything from steak and fish to vegetables and fruit to cheese and bread. We sit in our little garden listening to the sizzle of the fire, self-congratulating ourselves as we admire our prolific peppers and inspect the grapes for dreaded Japanese beetles. A few mornings each week we hit the open outdoor markets even when the fridge overflows with carrots and onions and greens and zucchini. And we spend quiet evenings together in bed on top of the sheets, lying upside -down “Pippi style,” so that the breeze from the open window cools us.

About this time every year I start to feel the tug of panic. I am living so deeply in each moment that it is a shock when I “come to” and realize the numbers are no longer in our favor. We are mid-July! My beloved State Fair is only weeks away! T is already pulling together his fantasy football lineup! We haven’t even seen the new polar bear exhibit at the Como Zoo yet!

The feeling is a cross between drunkenness and obsessive compulsive disorder. We drink in every second of sun warmth on our skin and green skyline meeting blue. I’m like a dog with her nose sniffing at the wind, hoping nothing passes me by before the breeze ends.