Now I am not usually the type to complain about the heat. I love summer just as much as any other fully fledged Aussie. The sensation of the sun sinking into my skin is one of my many loves. But I tell you these long Tuscan hot summer days are something altogether different.
Maybe I am becoming soft in my old age, or maybe my time spent in the French Alps has reset my body clock to a few degrees below what I can usually stand. Maybe I really am turning into a winter baby after all. I used to revel in the heat, as if it was like spending time with my best friend. Mowing the lawn or gardening for hours under the heat of the day never bothered me as long as I had a nice cold drink in the fridge with my name all over it, but now, even with the luxury of being able to throw myself in the pool at the end of any task I cant bring myself to function like I once did. The endless hot days with little to no relief are beginning to become ruthless and I find myself completely surrendering to the heat of the day and giving up on being able to achieve even the easiest of tasks.
After lunch I find myself seeking refuge in Herby Cottage, laying my body down on my white bed sheets with the fan blowing waves of air over me. I read until my eyes begin to become heavy and then sleep envelops me and I pass the heat of the day by dreaming of cooler places. Inevitably I wake in a sweat and then need a cool shower to bring myself back to life.
And with only the promise of more hot days ahead, as August, the hottest month of the year looms just around the corner I find myself wishing away summer and hoping upon hoping that the winter would hurray up and arrive already!
