“It was a hot and stormy Alabama summer.” wrote the author. One moment suffocating heat and humidity; the next moment dramatic, rushing storms.
The Good Old Days
I truly do appreciate the cooling devices that have been retro-fitted into my Victorian home. Air conditioning is wonderful. The gentle, slow sweep of southern ceiling fans can carry an author off into other times.
Times when my house was only an architect’s dream while other homes were steeped in southern heat. The ladies were ‘steeping’ too with crinolines, corsets and camisoles layered on their delicate bodies. Not one stitch was ‘machine wash and tumble dry’. I will have to come calling on these ladies along with their angels and ghosts later in the cool of the evening. Perhaps visit again in autumn and winter.
Because I write, I am not confined to summer heat in any one place! I can turn on the fan and the AC, park myself at the keyboard and ‘sail away’ to a gentler and cooler climate.
Spending some time at Slieve League letting the high breezes on the cliffs cool my mind. I can almost sail away on the breezes. My fingers on the keyboard are the rudder and wheel of my ‘summer ship’ as they take me into the lives of characters along the coastal cliffs. The Donegal Postman, Michael Gallagher predicted summer temperatures would begin to soar in May. Soar to a phenomenal average high of 59 degrees Fahrenheit. I am not noticed by the small group gathered on the beach as I wrap myself in an Aran shawl. I listen to the heroine playing her lyre while her brothers watch for lights on the cliffs above. I think she might be stroking the strings to warm her chilling fingers. Certainly, her lilting voice is clear in the crispy air.
Bringing myself back to Alabama, where the heat that stifled before now serves to bring my core temperature a little higher. Humidity condenses on my body making me feel like a little red haired sponge. Time to grab a towel and get ready to travel.
Memories and Ghosts on Lookout Mountain
This time I’m going to be closer to home. Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga, Tennessee. Wide verandas around a roomy bed and breakfast help me enjoy a warm day with shade and a light breeze. Sweet tea with a bit of fresh mint or a slice of lemon stands on a vintage side table next to my rocking chair. A delicate young girl dances alone. Her fringed crepe ‘flapper’ frock drifts to music that I cannot hear as she embraces a dream lover — where is he? Did he die in the great war? Or is he somewhere else in the house suffering from war injuries? Did he choose someone else? I think the tragedy and drama of the great war fits my mood. The tender mountain breeze soothes the sultry moments of summer and bringing memories of lost love to a young mountain girl with a flair for style.
Home Sweet Home in Alabama
After dream traveling to different climes, I’m able to return to my sweet dogs in Alabama. Keyboard time has come and gone. Words spinning from my fingertips have almost created their own gentle breeze. Dusk is moving in. I’m going to take these dogs out into the yard for a bit of fresh air. From the reports James Spann is giving us, we know we’d better get a light, cool dinner and some sleep. We’ll almost certainly be mind-traveling again tomorrow!