Starting mid-March through 4:01 p.m., July 12, there has been a strecth of mostly pleasant, beautiful, and perfectly appropriate weather; more than any stretch of weather from any span of a spring to summer that I can recall.
Payoff for Irene?
The start of a cycle that will continue for years?
A cruel joke destined to flip and become a prolonged span of dank, dismal, dreariness?
My three answers to those six questions are: could be, who knows, no one knows.
But have you noticed? Have you really noticed?
Have you noticed our Green Mountain summer has been one worth writing about? Or have you plodded along with your head down through this onslaught of stellar spring and summer sunniness, publically spewing complaints about everything, especially the weather, on the days you say were too hot or too humid or too rainy?
You have noticed? I thought so, because I’ve heard tell from some folks who normally wouldn’t be too impressed with a sunny day here and there, that they’re having a summer to sing about, a summer to remember—a summer to rejoice.
I can actually feel the sun jolting my spirit deeper in to the good, keeping it well above the plain-ole-content zone.
Fortunately, I most always feel great (“a hundred percent,” I like to say), and eating very clean helps, but I’d bet money my body is performing at elevated levels it’s never reached before, all because of this perfect stretch of weather, with it’s consistent doses of warmth, and sun, and extra infusion of vitamin D.
I’m serious. I’m tanner than ever, and contrary to what you often hear, I believe sun—done right—is good for your health, and not necessarily bad for the skin.
I read about it all in “The End of Illness” by cancer expert Dr. David B. Agus. He must know more than us, which is why I tend to believe him, not you or I, when it comes to sun and skin. Anyway, my skin, and bones, and muscles, and hair, and the entire conglomeration of inside business that I never see, my guts, all feel brand new.
Rusty DeWees tours Vermont and Northern New York with his act “The Logger.” His column appears weekly.