A general shortage of news has left me reporting on the start of school here in Manaloosa. I have to go to Walmart to be sure. Back to school sales and Halloween decorations are reminders in every store nationwide.
Residents are hunkered down in the August equivalent of January up north. The weather is so at odds with the pursuit of human happiness it becomes by default a good time to organize photographs or take up genealogy.
A very thin and sweaty UPS driver just walked quickly to the Maynard's front door. The pavement threatens to melt the soles of his shoes, so his bosses really love his speed at this time of year. He nervously scans a package and runs back to the truck. The Maynard's dogs have been loosed on him several times. Other drivers have refused this route and filed complaints.
This is the time of year we stop gloating about how great our weather is compared with the homeland back in Illinois. They have about six good days left of summer. Sunset is plunging back to darkened mid-winter levels like a rock tossed off a cliff. Big rock, short cliff. I have to walk the dog in the dark again before bed. New batteries in my headlamp remind me a little of Christmas.
There are moments when I miss the six months of dreariness so thick it felt like fleece, the acrid, penetrating lung disease called my wood stove, and that dance I did walking a dog on the ice, when no number of layers provided warmth against the night or shielded against sideways sleet. When the dog looked up to assess my resolve, ready to pee in the kitchen if it shortened our walk and save his paws from frostbite.
Ah, winter, here you come. But first, there are pumpkins to be carved. Yes, we have them here, but they don’t last long. Kids know to avoid the Maynard place. There are no decorations, it's just scary.