PAUL CHRISTENSEN

It's summer and the gods are playing tug of war with the wind and the sun. Some days are dead-weighted with humid air that clings to our our faces like stagnant water; other days, the cold traces of late winter blow down from Canada and chill the skin. The mosquitoes are just as confused as I am, and don't know whether to curl up under a leaf or hunt for human blood. We walk around here in the bleached sunlight admiring the ferocity of some wild things growing in the garden t

The Dog Days came early. Usually, August is the boiling month under the star Sirius, a ferocious mascot of hellfire and incineration. But a Bermuda current of overheated and humid air blew up along the Atlantic seaboard and planted itself overhead, and we wilted like so many thirsty weeds. It used to be you could live in Vermont without an air conditioner, or even a fan. The stores were very sparing in their shelf space for such things. Now, all the big retailers pile up boxe