Another Week: Number 135

This is the time of year when I have no idea why people live here. All through the bleak winter and the disappointing spring, we point to summer as some sort of idyll when we’ll lie naked on the grass and drift off to blissful sleep in gentle breezes while shooting stars flit silently by overhead.

Then suddenly, summer is more than halfway over, and you haven’t really been outdoors for any length of time because of the mosquitoes or the burning sun or the dew point or the Canadian smoke.

Oh, well. I look forward to fall.

The hummingbird has been visiting my feeder daily. Friday, she also hit the Wendy’s Wishes. Maybe, before it snows, my Bee Balm or my Agastache or my Penstemon or my Butterfly Bush will flower. Or maybe not.

Most of my media time this week was spent on sports — Cubs baseball or WNBA games. I tuned in to the WNBA All-Star game, but it was unwatchable. They go back and forth without any plays or defense. It’s just 40 minutes of running-shooting exercise with willy-nilly player substitutions and added four-point advertiser logos. No thank you.

I walked 6.98 miles this week.