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 Our day is filled with heat at this time of year.
It commands our attention and makes our work harder. As we toil, we
daydream not about love or success, but things as mundane as shade
and a cool drink.
But though the oppressive heat weighs on our brains and taxes our
bodies, it is the price we pay for being allowed to spend time
outdoors … and it has its one singular consolation: our summer
evenings.
When the sun goes down in summer, it’s romantic enough to hug a
cactus.
The recipe is simple; keep the earth warm, but just bring out the
stars and a soft breeze that cools the skin. Mix this with a
fulmination of little night varmint sounds of peeping and chirping
and croaking. And guitars. Whether we play them ourselves or just
turn on the radio, it is a setting that is perfect for guitars.
Villalobos, Fernando Sor, Tarrega, Randy Travis, Doc Watson, Steve
Cormier.
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We sit in brick-paved patios
with something cool and someone sweet and relax and talk about
dreams, because on evenings like this, anything is possible. On
nights like this, it’s difficult to decide whether remembering
evenings like this in the past is better than anticipating those to
come. All we really know is that it sure is nice to be here right
now.
Tonight I’m going to see if I can remember all the words to “Little
Joe the Wrangler” and find out if my guitar is still in tune.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to you by The
Fly Fisherman’s Bucket List by Slim Randles, from Rio Grande Books,
and now available at Amazon.com.
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