Just like that, yesterday’s sun left us. I woke to grey misty skies. The air is heavy and humid, smelling much like a wet Sheba. I had decided last night I would give up my exercise class for this week. I was feeling the fatigue of the heat. I am getting enough exercise running after Sheba and tending the garden. There’s no point in over stressing myself. Our aging bodies are not as efficient at regulating body temperature as when we were younger.

The thunder and lightning storm was no surprise. It was a lot of noise and show but it was short lived. Sheba and I still did a short walk with our umbrella. The rain cooled the streets and sidewalks. The smell of wet cement and asphalt was not pleasant. It made me wonder when did we get to be a concrete jungle. Oh, life in the city. I hear Joni Mitchell singing, Big Yellow Taxi. She wrote that in 1970 when she was 27. She certainly saw things clearly. Wish I was that observant.

They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel, a boutique
And a swinging hot spot
Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
‘Till it’s gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot

That was this morning. Now it is after 4 pm. Just as quickly the sun, heat and humidity is back. I was enjoying my lunch in the cool of the deck at noon. I was even thinking of a sweater or blanket then. Now I’m driven indoors by the heat. I’m feeling a tad blue despite the brilliant sunshine. That, of course, makes it worse. I know that it’s due to the fluctuating weather and temperature. Still it leaves me with a feeling of failure, inadequacy and whatnot. The air is heavy, still with a faint wet dog odour.

It is not Sheba, either, though it would be easy to blame her. She’s freshly laundered 2 days ago. She’s still sweet smelling and shedding her now fluffy fur. We’ve had 2 days of brushing now. First one side one day, then the other the next. She’s looking almost sleek now. I am glad that I’ve done that before my mood dip and my energy with it. I’ll see if I can talk myself out of it.

Talking to myself is not always effective or good when I’m feeling low. I end up ruminating on the wrong things, things that probably have no validity. I opted to get up and do something, like making supper. I wandered out to harvest some veggies from the raised beds. The raspberries needed picking, too. Then why don’t I trim the grass. It’s getting long. It didn’t take long. I thought maybe I should fill the beds with water. It’s been awhile since the last time and the top soil felt dry. I amazed myself at how much I got done once started.

No sooner had I got inside, the sun disappeared and thunder started rumbling in the air. The house was encased in gloom. Ah! I am really sensitive to the weather. I’m not using it as an excuse for my moods at all. The wind blew and the rain came pouring down. No climate change, eh? My supper was later than I planned. Then I discovered my fridge didn’t feel cool at all. Investigation, tossing, cleaning and defrosting the little freezer on top all ensued. I hope it solved the problem till a new one could be bought.

No surprise that it is late again. The dishes and stuff in the sink can wait. Sheba never got her afternoon walk. She’s ok. I’m ok. We’re getting wiser and more flexible as we age. Both of us.