Heat
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Hi,I'm Dave Thurlow and this is the Weather Notebook. Commentator Ruth Cash-Smith has refreshing memories of mid-summer heat here in the dog-days of August.

I remember how hot the summers were in the midwest when I was a kid. The corn shot up higher every week in the merciless baking sun and frequent thunderstorms rolled in suddenly like dark and angry visitors. On our farm there were just three places to escape the relentless heat; the screen-in porch, my treehouse in the choke cherry tree with its sleepy branches or in the barn.

Besides finding a cool place to wait out the heat the only other thing that relieved the sweltering days was ice cold lemonade. We kids took turns squeezing lemons and Mama fished the seeds out before she filled the pitcher with cold water from the handpump. Then she poured in sugar from the five pound bag. Never measuring, never misjudging. When she was finished stirring, Mama yelled out to the barn where my Dad was holed up until the heat stopped shimmering off the fields in waves and he could return to his chores. Daddy came in and he took a long swig of lemonade. We giggled as his Adam's Apple bobbed up and down. It looked just like a frog was stuck in his throat and was trying to get out.

As the thermometer soared into triple digits we guzzled our drinks instantly clammering for more. Outside the sun stilled baked the prairie dry, but inside as we poured ourselves a second glass of cool tasty lemonade, it seemed possible that a slight breeze just might stir up any minute.

Ruth Cash-Smith is a writer from Dennyville, Maine.