A few weeks later, not green but tans, yellows and ochres are starting to show in the canvas. We are most certainly in the doldrums of summer, our sails slack and heading nowhere. Temperatures above 90F every day, sometimes nearing 100F, and pewter thunderclouds rumbling overhead but never delivering any rain. Sometimes a crack of lighting creates a suture in the sky. The crescent moon gets thicker everyday, waxing its way to a full. The night sounds are a deafening chorus of katydids. We need rain.
Black birches have begun dropping yellow leaves. The hay-scented ferns are bowed down in supplication, flattened by the heat and drought. Patches of them are crisp and brown. According to the drought monitor, Ulster county is half in drought. I guess that’s pessimistic of me–it’s also half normal. Last night we got a passing shower, and when I walked in the evening the red efts joined me on the trail, all of us enjoying the cool moisture.