The Yard continues to fill with tourists each day but the groups grow more haggard as the summer wears on. Red-faced families vie for the imagined relief of shade under the horse chestnut,oak and maple trees in front of the house. Kids collapse on the grass while parents fan their faces with museum brochures before they douse themselves with the water they haven't consumed. A woman fainted today and the ambulance came and took her away to a cooler, more comfortable place. Some of the crowd that gathered looked more than a little disappointed that they hadn't fainted, too, and then coaxed their children into another run through the Constitution Museum for some cool exhibits.
Boston temperatures have reached one hundred degrees and beyond over the last couple of days keeping us close to home. We've experienced two brown outs and reacted with a bit of country bumpkin excitement until the house grew hotter. Cooling stations opened around the city and the area pools extended their hours. The homeless are getting sunscreen and water and the elderly are getting house calls. While the city implements its heat-wave measures we have established our own. Mainly, we complain often and venture out little while there is daylight (drawing straws when the dog needs a quick romp). I periodically extol the virtues of the suffering silent and offer simple remedies such as cold showers and a change of clothes to the heat-stricken.
Rem drags his toys near one of the air conditioning units and the rest of us lie about turning pages slowly in books so as not to raise our body temperatures by even a minuscule amount. I enforce a strict "no touching" rule when it comes to sitting on furniture (to avoid the sweat beads that form where the kids' feet or legs are touching and thus dodge the arguments about who is making who miserable).
Meals now fall into the self-service category. Those willing to exert themselves for food can take whatever they find. The microwave is open to use. The oven is off-limits. Long periods in front of the open refrigerator or freezer are overlooked.
We perk up a little when the sun goes down and the breeze turns from hair-dryer hot to palatable and step outside for a little fresh air. Our evening walks have grown shorter. The city continues to twinkle invitingly across the harbor; the artificial lights currently more welcoming than the blazing sun.
The neighbors gathered around the flagpole the other night. Rem and his friend helped pull down the flag under Ranger Dan's watchful eye and Craig and I received concerned inquiries as to how we were coping with the heat.
"We grew up in South Louisiana," Craig replied. "This is nothing."
"Good," one of the neighbors returned with a smirk. "Our winters, though, are wicked brutal."
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