These Hot Summer Days

We've been in an early summer heat wave this week. Not only is it hot and humid, but the wild plums are ripe. The heat can't keep me and Diamond out of the briars and brambles as I search for plum trees laden with their red and golden jewels, and she does her job of guarding me from unknown predators. We've picked four gallons of fruit, and there are now over forty jars of jelly in my pantry.

I've also been thinking about writing something lighthearted in my blog to add some variety to it. In keeping with the spirit of Jelly Season, I pulled the following "day" from the little book I wrote a couple of years ago. Here it is:

Summer Moon in Georgia

Hot, sticky, summer Georgia evening. Sun still shining in the Daylight Saving Time. Thickets of blackberry bushes laden with berries. The dust from a car passing by every now and then on the dirt road stirring up a red clay cloud. A light breeze carrying the cloud a bit before it dissipates in the air. Picture this in your mind, if you will, and read on.

This is the scene out in front of our Social Circle home. I am outdoors on this muggy evening with my shepherd-mix puppy, Buster, picking blackberries. Buster is wagging and sniffing and having a grand time in the brambles. I have a basket in one hand, the other hand busily fighting the briars and reaching for the plumpest berries. Buster’s thoughts are on wagging, panting, and sniffing. My thoughts are on how hot it is, feeling the sweat running down my shirt, how the brambles cling to my jeans legs and scratch my arms, and, of course, blackberry jelly. Buster and I have meandered our way across our five acres, and are now picking berries at the front corner of our property. My berry basket is almost full.

Suddenly, I feel a stinging on my legs, inside my jeans. Fire ants!! I am standing smack in the middle of an ant bed, and the ants have made their way up my sneakers, over my socks, and onto my bare legs. The berries and basket go flying high as I leap off the ant bed and begin the dance of slapping my legs with all my might. My attempt at pulling my jeans legs up is futile, as the humidity and sweat is making the denim cling to me. Buster is elated. He thinks we are playing a new game. He wags harder, jumps up on me for a pat, happy as he can be.

My plight is getting serious. I can’t get to the ants to kill them using the method I have attempted. The ants continue to bite as they make their way up my legs. As a last resort, I unzip my jeans, and push them down to my ankles. I can’t pull them completely off because of my clunky sneakers, so they bunch around my feet. Leaning over, I start smacking my legs with one hand while keeping Buster from getting too intimate with me with his cold, wet nose with my other hand. I only have one thing on my mind - getting the ants off of me. Everything else is forgotten for the moment. I finally kill the last ant, and realize the position I am now in. Here I am, my back facing the dirt road, my butt high in the air, as I swipe at the ants on my legs, mooning anyone who might be driving down the dirt road.

To make matters worse, I am wearing thong underwear.