Dry air means summer. It’s stiff and hot and won’t move no matter how many fans you blow against it. It’s lazy, it’s sunburn with no way to cool yourself, it’s long days sitting under the trees and talking. Because when dry air fills the sky and rolls over the ground, it’s too hot to work, too hot to do anything but sip lemonade in the damp, dewy grass.
Dad hates dry air; he thinks it is stiff and confining. It causes him to go through two shirts a day and grumble about “the darn summer heat”. He wishes for strong cool breezes to sweep the plains and clouds to cover the sun so he can work all day without having to dump water over his head, every hour. I hate when dad makes me work when there is dry air because I find myself wishing for the same things he does. But work not what dry air is meant for. Dry air means a day in the sprinklers, it means long days, hot nights, and summers that last forever.