Really Quite.

Last night, we here in 27401 cooled into the late evening enough to make leashing up the dog seem like a reasonable idea, and it was one of those communal ideas, apparently—by eightish or so it seemed much of the neighborhood was leashing its dogs and trying out the sidewalks, the park—one of those evenings where you pass somebody down at the bottom of the hill, and then again up top, your little orbit reintersecting theirs, and then follows the requisite neighborhood summer banter: Hot today. It's turned hot. Really hot. Heard it's supposed to be hot tomorrow. But it's nice now, isn't it? It is, it is.

Top of the hill, right as we got home: That huge storm out by Siler City was so huge you could see it from here, lit up by the lasts of the sunset, and lighting itself with cloud-to-cloud, such that it was something to stand there and see the very top of, ghostly white and that electric lavender/orange, neighborhood bats wheeling and crashing around in the immediate foreground, uninterested in the storm, interested, instead, I hope, in our mosquito collection. Left the truck in the driveway, pointing slightly downhill, one or two too many days. Little pond in the bed. Little incubator. Seven zillion mosquito larvae, who knows how many mosquitoes. Come on, bats. Little help, as we used to say in Little League.

A big old complex of storms looks to be trying to push itself down out of Kentucky and West Virginia. Nothing really in our forecast, but that doesn't necessarily mean we won't see something late afternoon or overnight. Or tomorrow. In the meantime, drink plenty of fluids. Check out the window every now and then. Let's just see what happens. If it cools off enough later on, maybe leash up your dogs. That's about enough for one summer day, isn't it?