Rexburg, ID. The outskirts of the desert. Typically this is obvious by the dry heat and sand particles that are blown around by the consistent assaulting wind.
Past summer days were spent baking in the sun with homework strewn out on a blanket in the park. We'd stay as naked as possible, t-shirts, shorts and skirts, flip-flops or slip on shoes that could be kicked off at a whim. My feet were permanently stained a calico of black, brown and green from running out of my apartment barefoot for any little reason. Shuddering against cold air-conditioning and being beaten by florescent lights for more than ten minutes was torture.
This summer, we're begging to be ravaged by the sun's rays. It seems to be taking an extra vacation when we need it the most. We're constantly berated by clouds and ice-cold rain. This is what they don't tell you about deserts. When it's dark, it is COLD. When it rains, it is COLD. No warm summer cloud bursts that you can stand out in barefoot letting the fat drops run down your face and over your skin. This rain is a shock each time it pelts down and touches flesh.
I miss playing in warm puddles that congregated in intersections. The hot pavement paired with the warm rain from the muggy atmosphere. Perfection. Summer.
