The high-pitched buzz of cicadas and papery rustle of wavering leaves cut through my labored breathing as I grind out the last few pedal strokes up the steep climb. The wind stirs thick air but does little to cool my body through the clinging jersey. Though the humidity is so thick it blurs the sun’s disk with a milky gauze, the heat is palpable. I can see it rising in shimmering waves off the baking pavement. I can feel it searing my skin. Stinging sweat pours into my eyes and fuzzes my vision. Time to stop, right here, in the shade. A drink, a swipe of my eyes with a bandanna, and I can see clearly again.

 

 
And what I see is haze. Haze flattens the rolling hills ahead of me, painting the successive wooded rises in ever-lighter hues of chalky blue-green. Haze softens the outlines of nearby trees. And it gives the light a diffuse, glaring quality characteristic of the Dog Days of summer. After clearing my eyes, I take a breather and look around me. An old cemetery to my right is inviting after the steep climb. I’d like to roll my bike in there and stretch out in the shade for a nap.

 

 
As sticky, clinging nights give way to hot days, energy flags and motivating myself to ride requires a pot of coffee or a visit to the bathroom scale. It may be miserable to sit and work at the keyboard in hot, humid weather, but on a bike it’s cooler and more tolerable. People are surprised when I tell them that, but it’s true. On a bike you make a breeze, even when climbing hills. That breeze sweeps over your damp legs and arms and helps cool you. But there’s more to getting out on a bike on these searing day than riding away the malaise of summer. While others (even the dogs) sprawl catatonically on hammocks, reclining lawn chairs, and front stoops, you and your bike join in with the rhythm of the land. I note that the wild apple trees are doing well this year, though it won’t be a bumper crop. The wild grapes, on the other hand, are good producers this time around. I can see their maple-like leaves waving overhead, the curling vines reaching out to whatever they can grab.

 

 
I stop again and look more closely at the swollen grapes which will help wildlife fatten up for winter.

 

 
Across the road, a field of hay has been baled.

 

 
The farmer who hays this field keeps a small old tractor in fine shape.

 

 
The wind picks up and birch trees sway. Of course, it’s a headwind for me.

 

 
A few miles along my route I cross a bridge over The River and stop to see what there is to be seen. There’s that same glaring light.

 

 
Clouds build up and it looks like storms might be brewing. A weather breeder kind of day, as the old folks used to say.

 

 
Back on the saddle for the six-mile ride back home. The hazy, hot weather will break in a day or so, and then it will be a return to cool wet conditions. I reflect on the angle of light, and the expectant air among the wild animals and migratory birds. And then I see a pond off across a field and notice families of Canada geese. They’re fattening up for the ordeal that awaits them. I hear them at night as they fly by, training the children and strengthening their wings. Like me, on these hazy days of summer, they’re building muscle for longer trips to come, but being a little lazy sometimes, too.

 

 
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