August 18th, 2013

caillebotte_man at his window


In a few days, two thirds of summer will be gone. About this time of year I begin to feel that I'll be able to endure what's left of the season— that I probably won't sweat myself away to a wraith, and that the risk of collapsing in a public heap in a parking lot from heat exhaustion when I'm out shopping has been reduced to the point that I no longer picture it each time I leave the house. I can think more kindly of summer now, and even begin to recall that, on winter's coldest days, I'll probably feel nostalgia for July and August.

About the only thing to spoil this improving mood is the noise of the cicadas. They are getting louder and louder each night, and it won't be long before the nerves in my ears are raw from their buzzing racket. So far, I can still hear the pleasant rhythms of the crickets, and the cicadas are an annoying background sound, but it won't be long before the crickets are all but drowned out. I'm just glad that the cicadas don't reach their peak earlier in the summer, but wait until the waning of the season has become noticeable. This way I have two things to look forward to— the end of summer and the silencing of the cicadas.

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