A hot day. We are into the blisteringly hot part of the summer--just entering it. Yes, the Mojave desert may be hotter than the Foothills, but you expect that of a desert. In a sense, the heat of the Mojave is part it's charm, along with the most poisonous of rattlesnakes, the Mojave rattler (complete with both hemo and neuro toxins in it's venom).
The heat here is not as dry, and therefore a bit more uncomfortable. You learn to adapt. Locals take naps and learn to do their work in the morning or the evening (out here, people with jobs--and therefore normal schedules---are the exception to the rule). Walking in the morning just seems too barbaric to me. Mornings are for drinking coffee half-lidded and blearily watching the news.
Just like there are two types of runners: those who run in the morning (to me, an Axis One diagnosis if I ever saw one); and those who run in the afternoon (the sensible folks). I was in the latter category in my once-upon-a-time running days. My pietistic Lutheran Pastor brother belonged to the former category. An early bird. Conventional folks run in the morning; radicals in the afternoon.
So I walk at sunset. And you?
1 comment:
Relatively hot here also.
I prefer getting out early before the temperature and active human population both soar. But walking is greatly reduced at any time--I'm now waiting for a bus to do errands and go put in a couple hours of falcon watching.
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