The Textures of Summer

Summer near the foothills makes me count the days til Fall. Too far from the coast to feel the cool beach breezes, we're stuck with heat and smoggy haze. While I complain about sticky clothes, Summer's secrets go unnoticed.

As Kona and I jogged our ridge, I wrinkled my nose at our browning landscape. Then the more I looked, the more I noticed the layers of textures, the fine shifts of colors.
Witches hair grew over sumac. I wondered if the parasitic plant would harm it's hardy host. Kona lunged for a rabbit that zigged underneath the sumac's low branches.
Tufts of dry grass dotted our sandy fireroad and mingled beside mustard, still yellow in the early Summer.
I relaxed into a steady pace and Kona panted, pulling slightly ahead. With our easy rhythm, I let go of my brown, bleak, one dimensional season. I let the trail show a different side of Summer.