It's not that it's too hot nor that it's too hot too soon. It's just that the chilly season lasted way too long this year, and last week we had the damn heat on in our houses. This week it's like a blast furnace outside.
These are New England extremes.
While I'm up in North Conway, basking in the shadow of a still-snowy Mount Washington yet melting in 94 degree heat in the valley, I am hanging around outside the church waiting for my sister's concert. There are two benches near a tree, but there is also a lovely little reflection garden.
The reflection garden has stone seating and a bench, and I'd love to go and sit down, but the water jets are on, watering the plants and grass, keeping me at bay. I want some pictures, though, so I edge a little closer.
The watering system shuts off after about ten minutes, and my heat-relief vanishes with it. Three black fly bites later and nearing heat stroke, I realize that the church where the concert chorus is rehearsing, and in which it they will perform, actually has decent air conditioning. I probably should've sat my sweaty butt inside in the first place, but, truth be told, the garden and the benches and being outside in the presence of the White Mountains . . . spectacular.
