I don't remember summers being this hot when I was younger. We didn't have air conditioning at our house until I was a teenager. We'd cool our house with a fan in the upstairs window in the evenings. It would pull out the hot air and in the cool and made for some mighty comfortable sleeping. We played outside on a blanket under shade tree all day long, we didn't dare go in the house unless it was an emergency for fear my mother would put us to work. Barbie dolls, bicycles, jump rope and hopscotch were the sum of our long summer days.
Summers were filled with fresh vegetables from the garden my daddy grew so lovingly each year. I still remember that wonderful taste of those first tomatoes and that wonderful sweet corn. Of course, I also remember all the canning and freezing that went along with those vegetables. Picking, shelling, husking, burring, washing, cutting, slicing and the hours spent preparing them to go into jars, bags, and the freezer. It paid off, though. We had vegetables all winter long. I didn't realize that vegetables came in metal cans in the grocery store until I was grown. (I didn't know meat came in anything but white paper from the butcher either.)
Now, I'm a lot older, probably a little more jaded, and definitely hotter. These endless days of 100 degree temperatures make me realize where the phrase "dog days of summer" came from. It's not fit outside for man nor beast. I sometimes wish for those gentler, simpler days and the innocence of childhood. Now, I live for the air conditioning, a comfortable chair and a good book to read or a movie to watch. I also count the days until cooler weather.