“The summer raced on. (‘Not without dust and heat,’ Lawrence several times remarked, in his private ironic voice.) The roses wilted on the roof and on the banks next to the road. The creek dwindled, and beside it honeysuckle leaves lay limply on the vines”
–Alice Adams, “Roses, Rhododendron”
It is in the summer when I find myself the most homesick, find myself longing the most for the unrelenting heat of the eastern North Carolina lowlands. Impossible to avoid after days and days of no rain, the weight of the air before an intense summer storm is likely to stifle, the first few drops of rain–a sweet relief–beading on the dusty sand of tobacco fields.
Lovely first post. And it made me homesick too.
By: soundofbuilding on August 3, 2008
at 11:14 pm
I see you’re on the scene now! I’ll be looking forward to reading more
By: Scout on August 4, 2008
at 8:07 am
Spent a week in Kentucky, air like soup, no relief when it showered, not a bit, but all that green, those fenced in fields, horses, cows, back roads, little towns with trains running right through the middle — in LA the sky is the palest blue and the mustard has dried up to nothing, little lizards every which way on the path, dust in my socks and between my toes, how’d it get there? Thinking of you, thinking towards fall…
By: dinah on August 18, 2008
at 3:02 pm