- Pilot House goes smoke-free (4/23/17)10
- Without city record, Marie Street residents on hook for thousands in sewer repairs (4/19/17)7
- Event includes the first public tour of 200-year-old Elmwood Manor (4/23/17)3
- BBB warns Jackson man's online business might not be legit (4/24/17)
- Few Southeast students face suspension, expulsion for sexual assaults, campus paper finds (4/25/17)3
- Man out on bond for alleged molestation of boys charged with abusing girl (4/18/17)
- Cape councilman Bob Fox to run for mayor (4/21/17)5
- Woman battered after smashing boyfriend's meth pipe against wall, police say (4/25/17)
- Deputy: Man kicked, broke uncle's ribs after yard-work dispute (4/19/17)
- Sikeston man charged in shooting death of Cape man (4/23/17)
A rare day indeed
"And what is so rare as a day in June?" asked the poet. Southeast Missourians have a good answer: Any day in August when the thermometer barely tops 70 degrees and the humidity stays near the Gulf of Mexico where it belongs.
We're used to sweltering in August. We expect air conditioners to be running full blast. We consume icy beverages by the gallons in August. We wear the barest necessity of clothing during the eighth month of the year. We dream of September's moderating breezes. We decide -- finally -- in August that the little bit of snow and ice last winter wasn't so awful after all. We make peace, as the sun centers over the equator, with burning rays and parched lawns.
But not this year. First came the February-to-June spring. Then came the cold fronts rushing down in July -- in July! -- from somewhere near the Arctic Circle. And now that August is here, we are having to put aside our plans for dog days and find reasons -- yes, even excuses -- to go out in the midday sun and not give a second thought to mad dogs.
And then there's the rain. We should have stopped mowing our lawns weeks ago. But regular showers have kept our flowers beds and our soybean fields green and lush.
Enjoy it while you can. Next year will include another August -- probably a real Southeast Missouri scorcher.