102 -- And There Is No Shade

The ice has broken in the Rillito River, our dry wash of redundancy, a pathway that floods with winter melt off but now, under no clouds and a scorching sun, lies sandy and pock-marked with coyote and horse and javelina footprints. 

There's nary a drop of water to be found.

At the cashier stand, a shopper told me that the 7am start to the 5k she'd run that morning really should have been at 6.  By 8, it was really too hot to run.

I wore my First Day It's Freakin' Hot Out dress to The Rogue's production of King Lear on Saturday afternoon.  It's long enough to cover my ankles if the air conditioning is fierce, and it has very little to annoy me on the top.  It's my acknowledgement that the temperatures are rising and I am prepared.

There's no reason to keep the long sleeve shirts in the front of the closet.  My jeans can be packed away.  I bid a fond farewell to my boots as I looked at them this morning; it will be many months before my feet will be cool enough to consider putting them on.