Yasuko Enjoying the Shade of the Dendriform Columns
It hit ninety and above today with single-digit humidity, but I can't wait for one hundred degree days in Phoenix, when the pollen production shuts down, and the sneezy yellow eye-itch powder finally clears from the air. I dream of still, hot, dry, air and blazing sun, when the desert comes into its own, and the trails clear of casual riders. Noon, with saguaro: a cactus wren buzzes, insects hum, and I'm alone and riding in peace in the heat. Ninety degree nights spinning along the canal in a blast of furnace night air, just me,and the bats skimming the water. No more swollen, scratchy eyes or runny noses! No more antihistamine zombification! I know we're only half-April at this point. And except for the allergies, this weather is glorious. But I am ready for one hundred. Now, the flowers and green and new birth of spring is beginning to wear on me: it's time to fry all that is green and flowery, to bake the earth, and let the cactii and lizards have their long, hot days in the summer sun. Bring on the ultraviolet baths of summer. Bring on the lizards doing push-ups, and the birds panting in the heat. And ultimately, bring on the monsoon rains and winds, when I may need to seek shelter temporarily beneath the mighty dendriform columns that Frank Henry designed for the bank at 44th and Camelback. Beneath their spreading cement canopies, I would be safe from hail of any size. On my bike, heat is power, and driving monsoon rains make me laugh with joy. Get up. Go ride.