We did not have an extraordinarily hot summer around here. It was hot and humid as usual for these parts, and there were plenty of days in the 90s, but I don't remember getting over 100 degrees.
We had a lot of rain until about mid-August, when it stopped abruptly and we had draught-like conditions until a couple of weeks ago.
And while our summer was not unbearably hot, the summer temperatures hung around throughout September, and we have even had some 90-degree days this past week. The mornings are pleasant but by mid-day it has felt like summer.
We have friends who spend part of the winter in Florida, fleeing winter temperatures (even though winters here are hardly brutal). I would sooner spend part of summers in the mountains, preferably in Colorado, to get away from the heat and humidity. (But I'll be staying around here.)
And speaking of, it was only for a few days, but Wife and I spent some time in Colorado in August. We were invited to a wedding in Fort Collins. After attending the wedding, we spent a couple of days in Estes Park, at the east entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, one of my happy places, and where I spent the summers of 1980 and 1981.
Trail Ridge Road is the vehicular passageway through Rocky Mountain National Park and is open late May through mid-October. The rest of the time, it is largely covered with snow. The highest passable road in North America, it has spectacular views. Some drivers (and passengers), however, find it more than they can take.
During the summer of '81, however, most days I drove a 15-passenger van up Trail Ridge from the town of Grand Lake at the west entrance of the national park, where we lived, to Trail Ridge Store (at the top of Trail Ridge Road) where we worked. During this trip Wife and I spent a day driving over Trail Ridge, over to Grand Lake and back to Estes Park, and I immediately felt comfortable with the drive, even as Wife turned her head inward a few times. I loved retracing my steps and reliving times from those summers, and Wife graciously indulged me as I told her stories she had already heard.
I returned to south Arkansas for my 50-year class reunion a couple of weeks ago, which I wrote about on my Substack. It exceeded expectations. A bunch of classmates made their way back to our old stomping grounds and even though the big event Saturday night pushed me outside my comfort zone with the large crowd, I knew there would be people there I would enjoy seeing. The room was plenty spacious, so I took a deep breath and lingered on the edges, then would work my way into the larger group when I would see someone I wanted to visit with. It was more enjoyable than I expected it would be.
Even more enjoyable was a much smaller event Saturday afternoon with about 15 of us, all old friends, which was a comfortable, relaxed setting at someone's home. It was great to talk and laugh and act like we were 18 again.
Wife and I will hit the road again soon, and I'll report back when the latest jaunt is complete.
