These long dog days of summer are a wonder to behold. They’re not at all about dogs, actually. Instead, the phrase refers to the hottest days of the year, the last months of summer here in the Northern Hemisphere. In reality, it’s a reference to Sirius (the dog star) which is part of the constellation Canis Major (the Greater Dog). It’s the brightest star in the night sky and its literal meaning is “scorching”.

            Anyway, despite the negative connotations throughout the ages, I’ve always thought of it fondly. As a kid, thrilled to finally be on summer vacation, those long dog days of summer stretched out gloriously before me—no school, no regular routine, no worries. It had arrived and life was good.

            I still feel the same way. But now, they’re not nearly long enough. I can’t believe we’re already barreling toward the end of August. It feels like summer has barely begun. And I am so NOT ready for it to be over. It’s going WAY too fast.

            It’s why I’ve made it a priority to go to the beach almost every week, reminding friends and family, whoever might go with me, that summer will be gone before we know it—and then it will be too late! It used to be our very important job, as mothers, to do this for our kids, but now I feel it’s just as important for ourselves. You know, carpe diem, even if we do have to plan it ahead of time.

            As a teenager, I’d ride my bike the eight miles to town to work all morning, training horses and mucking corrals. Then I’d ride back home in the heat of the day, stopping at Palma Farms for a couple of delicious fresh peaches to eat under their shaded overhang. And finally, after making it back home, I’d grab my surf board and dog and we’d head to the neighboring pond down the dirt road where the two of us would take turns swimming and laying out on my long board. I called it the whale. By evening it usually cooled off enough to work my own horse. I remember those days appreciatively, while right now I sit on an old couch on the front porch, writing out this essay by hand—the way it comes best for me.

            Another bonus of these hot days is that my three-year-old Australian shepherd is much calmer than when it’s cooler. I can’t say exactly calm, but certainly slightly more subdued and less hyper. When the temperature gets too much to bear, she splashes around in her little kiddie pool and I dunk my head under an outside faucet and wet my entire head and shirt. Then do it again in another thirty minutes or so. And then again and again… It works, you really ought to try it. We don’t have air conditioning and this is a cheap and healthy alternative for me.

Lately, I’ve been itching for another camping trip—you know, before it gets too cold. I don’t know if I’ll make it or not, but the Eastern Sierras are calling me. Those beautiful jagged peaks, the great Owen’s Valley, crystal-clear lakes and streams, and pine-scented air in the higher elevations. I’m listening, but we’ll see.

And once I finish with this evening’s chores, I think I’ll head down to the creekbed and retire in the hammock to gaze up at those majestic oak branches and contemplate the long dog days of summer while I still can.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.