The Stretch of Shade

    We are in the middle of a heat wave here in Northern Virginia, unlike the temperate New England summers in the late 50s when I grew up. My mother had a name for hot days like these. It's going to be a scorcher, she would call out from the kitchen, and we knew we'd spend the whole day in the water.

    Super hot days are more common lately, and I've been getting up early to walk. By mid-day, the temperatures are up in the nineties, so if I don't get out there by 7:30, I'm in trouble. Of course, some people are okay with the heat. When my son was little, even in July, he wore his favorite purple corduroy pants with cowboy boots. Mom, I like to sweat, he famously replied when I encouraged him to change into shorts. And my son-in-law has no problem running at noon. That's not me.  

    It's been so hot lately that I spend much of my time outside looking for shade. This newfound attentiveness to the landscape benefits me beyond my need to cool down. Instead of being buried in my podcast or favorite book, I see more of my surroundings as I walk around the neighborhood. I've expanded my range of vision and am more attuned to the fine points of the neighborhood. I like discovering what I've been missing. 

    Spring in Virginia this year was wet. March was the rainiest it's been in the D.C. area since 1998, and it continued falling throughout April and into May. Because of this and despite the current heat, our neighborhood lawns, bushes, and trees reflect the goodness of all those downpours. Tree branches are laden, even brazen, with green's magnificent shades and vicissitudes. Heretofore, only Crayola would come to mind when considering said color. I now realize I've been missing the wonders of green. It's been fun to look around and absorb it as a multi-hued experience. 

    My vigilance for shade has me looking in all directions to discover things I'd typically miss.  Budding figs are more plentiful than ever, and when I look up, I'm thrilled to behold Magnolias's floppy, white loveliness against a verdant backdrop. And yard ornaments. My bent is to turn my nose up at pink flamingos, plaster Bambis, preening swans, or the like. In my old age, I see them as expressive celebrations of life. One brightly painted yard sign blithely encourages passersby to Bee happy! I walk by with sweat trickling down my back and cynically think, Ya, in this day and age, that's a tough ask.

Floppy, white loveliness against green

    Today, the thermometer hit 98 degrees, and the humidity caused my walk to feel like a wade through molasses. I didn't want to give up - I'm better for motion - so I found a stretch of shade about half a block long and traced the outer perimeter for the duration.  When I was younger, I might have self-consciously felt like I was making a spectacle of myself continually walking around a tiny road area like that. Today, I enjoyed a knowing hello and chuckle from a stranger—a friendly reward for my audacity.

The stretch of shade

 

    It's funny; my mother calling out scorchers back then now seems prescient. With each overly hot summer, I slowly wake up to the problematic realities of the climate crisis, concerns that go far beyond the mere discomfort of sweating. The overwhelming nature of the situation feels like a trap we can't get out of; on better days, I'm optimistic and think of it as a challenge. Last month, I blithely went on a cruise ship for a family reunion. Today, I feel chagrin as I realize how much carbon a trip like that emits. How else am I in the dark about more viable options? Although there are no easy solutions, I pin my hopes on the human capacity to withstand difficulties, be more aware, and adapt. In the face of adversity, we have choices. Be more sustainable! That's the message I want on my yard sign, and at the end of a long hot walk, I feel emboldened by that idea.

Be more sustainable!