Big dog has retreated to the safety of a small room, leaving little dog puzzled. Summer is so lovely, and storm season is the best part. The oppressive buildup, the towering clouds, the crack and break of the storm.
The ride this morning was warm liquid air on your arms. Deep breaths that filled your lungs with rich soft smells. The sudden drench of sweat when you stopped pedaling and the breeze disappeared. Hair in twisting tendrils stuck to your neck. Summer. My season.