The back porch on a hot night

Yeah, yeah, I know.  It hasn't looked like this on my porch for 2 years now.  I was sitting out there a few minutes ago, mentally preparing for the trip to Mound Bayou in the morning.  I am surrounded by the Amazon.com boxes that don't seem to make their way past the porch to the trash, the no-longer-working electric heaters from J's room, and the endless stack of Roadie-chewed-on quilts or throws that I think "I will repair and be able to use again" and spider webs in so many places that I am afraid to start cleaning up the porch again.

I was recalling when I first moved to Mississippi and I would listen to ZZTop on my drive in to work every day.  "I'm shufflin' through the Texas sand, but my head's in Mississippi."  At the time then, and often now, it is more like I am sweatin' through the Mississippi heat and humidity, but my head's in Texas.

It has been (as Super Chikan says) "scorchin' hot in the summer" the last few days.  I sat outside last night after sundown, fanning with my Tula Opry fan, and wondering why I was out there.  I tend to imagine earlier experiences: Grandma's house in the summer with no air conditioning, and summer nights so still nothing moved, not even a leaf; sleeping out on the front porch at Mama's with the sound of crickets, night-calling birds, "pole-cats" and mosquitoes buzzing in my ears.

I think my dad is probably sitting outside on his deck, in the hot hot Texas summer, drinking a cup of coffee, ignoring the mosquitoes.  Dad does not like air conditioning, Mississippi, or being inside.