"Hotter than the Fourth of July." Well, yeah. Has been about a month by my reckonin'. Hot enough to wring you soggy and leave you tuckered. Hot enough to shame a jalapeno, to wilt a cactus, I'm thinkin'. Every dog under the porch kind of hot. HOT, I mean.
It's tough, the kind of times to make you hug your air conditioner technician, that selfless saint ready with a blast of fresh refrigerant to top off your unit and snatch a waft of coolness from the jaws of hell. It's a Pure-D miracle, I'm tellin' ya, and we have our A.C. man to thank for it, God bless him.
But say you don't have a air conditioner, well what then? Well you'd be needin' a box fan, brother. Downright surprisin' the kind of relief you can get a-sittin' in front of a fan like that with a wet towel to bathe your face with. Just water your face and let that fan blow it dry again, pardner. No it ain't the Ritz, but it's plain refreshin'.
Brings to mind some other remedies we used to rely on. Think ice-cold Co-Cola in a glass bottle. Still got 'em on Main Street at Jasper Drugs. Snatch one out the icebox, pop the top off, and hold that bottle mouth right close to your ear. Those bubbles a-goin' sounds just like a ocean wave.
And when that bottle starts to bead with condensation, try pressin' the cold, wet glass of it across your forehead. There's a pause that refreshes. Drinkin' it ain't bad neither.
A slice of cold watermelon serves almost as good––not for rubbin' up the side of your head but surely as a cool treat. 'Course homemade ice cream is the end-all in that line. It just don't get no better. Creamy delight froze colder than ice, it is. The salt makes it so. And it stays cold all the way down. Don't eat it too fast. Fillin' and chillin'. Slap the sweat off me––I must be dreamin'.
'Course, when you can't find a batch of homemade, a milkshake comes close. For that, maybe try Cream in downtown Jasper or the Dairy Queen headin' toward Tate.
A swimmin' hole is another fine relief. There are still some around. There's a fine one at Marble Hill in Long Swamp Creek. No divin', I reckon, but deep enough for baptizin', and that beats the hell outa burnin', if ya know what I mean. Praise God we've had rain enough and the creeks is full. I reckon we get what we need in the times that tries us.
Want a deeper dip? Try a farm pond. They's lots around. You're bound to know somebody what's got one. They'd probly share.
Short a farm pond, you could try jumpin' through the sprinkler. But you might wanta save that for the under-sixteen crowd. When you've fallen and you can't get up, it turns grizzly if that's face down in a muddy patch. Not a pretty thought.
And pretty thoughts is what's called for just now, some lemonade-in-the-shade kind of contemplatin’ 'bout findin' relief and avoidin' the heatstroke. Sling that hammock 'neath a shade tree, y'all, where it'll catch a nice breeze. Looks to be a long, hot summer.
Still though, bein’ it's nearly July Fourth, we're most halfway to Christmas, I’d say. Why, I'm feelin' cooler already.
Have a cool holiday, you'ns.
Sincerely,
Jasper Pickens |
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