The water is too cold. The night temperatures hover around the upper 50s and upper 60s, and 20-30 mile per hour winds keep us chilled during the day.
While we may be halfway through it, I’m still waiting for summer to start, heralding its sweltering temperatures and hot muggy nights. My strappy thin nightshirt is still hanging over the bed post since the one 92 degree night when I wore it over a month ago. When I packed for the lake, I envisioned sweltering nights as I listened to the water flap against the shore with the covers thrown down by the foot of the bed.
Our coat rack is as loaded as if it were winter. This summer has been anything but hot. At first, I thought those cold nights were just a fluke; certainly the heat would make its way back soon. Three weeks later, and I’m still wearing my winter wool socks at night, and if we make a bonfire, it’s simply because we’re trying to keep warm.
The sky seems to have a story all of its own — and not one line in her book alludes to heat.