Ninety-seven degrees at the trailhead parking lot according to the Van’s external thermometer.
There is always a crossing over. There is always a ride where I choose the heat. You can choose the heat and let it melt and bend and temper you into something new (the 2009 fall edition?) or you can hide and cower from the heat– suffering cabin fever and growing brittle on the inside and doughy on the outside.
Tonight I chose the heat and the heat chose me, and now I have a date for the summer dance.
Of course I wrote about the weather. Not writing about this heat would be like living through Katrina and not writing about rain.