“Hot. Getting hotter.
By day and by night, summer bloomed, blazed. The horse-chestnut
tree became a darker green, its leaves broadening, glistening with a
leathery, waxy sheen, its branches sprouting small prickly balls. The
lawns, however, sprouted only dandelions, crabgrass, and witchweed.
Awnings were useful. While certain people returned, sorrowfully,
to the city, others arrived to enjoy the blandishments of the
country. Some loved the weather, some endured it, some suffered
from it. My, wasn’t it muggy, sticky, damp, humid? And in an age
before air conditioning, too.”
— from The Other by Thomas Tryon