Yesterday, I was up far too early. All week I haven't been sleeping well, not able to return to my slumber after Lily wakes me in the middle of the night. She's been sleeping longer stretches, but I've found myself awake for three or more hours, waiting for sleep. After I fed her, I tried to get another hour or so of shut eye to no avail. I rolled my tired self out of bed, took Penny outside, and sat down. It was 7:30 or so. The back yard was still shaded from the tall water oak and a tiny breeze blew through. With Adam and Lily still asleep, I grabbed my bible and the novel I'm reading and made myself comfortable on the back deck with a strong cup of coffee.
Since our trip to New York two weeks ago, I've had an awful hankering to return. I miss it a lot and didn't realize how much I did until we moved away. As I read yesterday, passing a few hours until the sun was beating down on me, I imagined myself on a crisp June morning in upstate New York, reading on a porch swing or, maybe, a hammock. It was enough to sustain me as I sweated away. Mornings in Alabama, the temperature lately is no less than 75; in New York, it's in the 50s with a daily high of 75. I'm jealous.
I'm just not cut out for Southern weather. I like layers and jackets and winters. I hate wearing shorts. Even more, I'm not a fan of skirts and dresses, the summer uniform for many women around here. Today, I even put on my jeans to protest the hot weather, but found myself sweating inside the house and had to switch to something shorter and lighter.
I wish I could say that I'm making the best of it. Really, I'm a whiner. I don't think I'll ever get used to the heat and humidity. Even living near the Gulf of Mexico and white sandy beaches isn't enough to make it better. I'm already counting the days until autumn.