The dog days of summer

Maybe it is my deep southern roots or maybe I am a reptile. Which ever it is, when the days get so hot an egg can be fried on the road by 8 am, I never want to leave the air conditioning. There is a classic line in To Kill a Mockingbird ("...men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.") parades through my head this time of year.

Another little manta that marches in my head is this: "but when you have little boys..." Is it a justification or an explanation? Who knows. The reality remains if it is raining, cold, or very, very hot, little busy body boys want to be outside.

Pop's woods is the only reprieve if you must be outside during the 'dog days of summer'.

According to Live Oak lore (or basically what Pop says), the 'dog days' means

1. Sores don't heal,

2. Mocking birds don't sing and

3. Snakes can't see

(Not exactly exciting the shopping fever car salesmen want you to feel during all those late summer sales with the same moniker.)

I feel as if I am rambling. Oh well.

Gavin and I spent the morning in a gauzy, shaded woods driving the Gator as Pop fixed a fence post. Gavin experienced his first bout of red bugs. I am sad he didn't inherit my immunity to them. He also experienced his first run in with ticks (and by ticks, I mean seven of them...in the groin...) All-in-all the woods sound fabulous, huh? Come on fall...