It’s hot. Hotter than hot. So hot that words can’t capture it.How do you describe the heat that has wrapped its suffocating hold around our necks, squeezing the breath out of us?
The words themselves are clichés. Baked? As crisp as a Viking Range on broil. Steamy? Worse than a Roman bath on steroids. Sultry? More than a King Kong jungle.
You’d think the South would be accustomed to this, but au contraire. It’s torture just to survive a walk across campus. Forget the yard work we started with spring-like enthusiasm. Forget the leisurely evenings on the patio. Forget the resolution to take walks around the block. Even my dogs hide from these much-too-early dog days of summer.
There’s one word I like that seems to come close. Use it if you will. What we have here is a desiccating June.
