Heat

--> The heat descends. There’s something almost unnatural about it, freakish, atomic, condensed. Summer here’s a short season, but the orchards and vineyards grow lush fast nonetheless soaking up the last bit of spring rain before the hot light stays long in the valley. Cherries ripen – I spent part of yesterday head in a laden tree, sketchily propped up on an old plank fence pulling the sun-warmed glowing coral and carmine fruit from far branches with fingertips, my arms sticky with juice and sunshine. The heat shimmers aromatic on the ground and I roll a cherry around on my tongue before squishing the warm sweet and sour pulp against the roof of my mouth. The lake shines blue and silver below me; the sun bakes my skin brown as dirt. I blink into the bright, and time sears along in a flash.