It’s that time of year here in the mountains of southwest Virginia. Hot, humid. The air, thick with moisture, gives off the blue tint that gives name to the Blue Ridge Mountains, which scientists tell us comes from isoprene released from trees into the air. Blue haze so thick on some days we can barely see Buffalo Mountain.
The type weather that makes you want to rip up your garden so you have no guilt about not wanting to go outside and work in it. Too hot to walk. Too hot to think about walking. Unless, of course, you’re a highly energetic, heat-resistant labradoodle like Shadow.
To the rescues comes a whopper of a storm–3.6 inches in little over twenty minutes of booming, roaring drama. And then, a cool breeze. Mist rises from the trees. And we remember why we love it here.