At the time of this writing, it has been over a hundred degrees out for a couple days and will be for a couple more. Advertisements seemingly abound with news of deodorants for use on armpits and horrid elsewheres. The neighborhood crows have melted into oil slicks. Or black tar, perhaps. Asphalt? "Ride the crows," is a common manner of saying 'hit the road.' Not really.
It is extreme weather.
Extreme weather in the other direction, aka Winter's famed frozen tundra, offers the prevailing and correct wisdom of smoking small (quick) and heavy smokes. A heatwave also calls for small, but lighter. To be clear, I am not talking of smoking down by a cool creek or poolside under an umbrella with iced tea in hand. I'm talking about sitting on a bench or porch. Not baking maybe, but definitely a-swelter.
Ah, the dog days.
Nothing larger than a robusto (it is astounding that Robustos are now considered small-ish). Nothing meaty or spicy. Smooth and easy-breezy beautiful. Granted, by the time this posts, the crows might be back to flight--but there's plenty of room for another wave prior to Autumn. Stay hydrated, Gentlepersons. And stick to Connecticut-wrapped sticks of the aforementioned dimensions when the mercury rises.
Coronas as well as their petite iterations are grand. A small perfecto is fun amid heat hallucinations. Then get thee back inside. A movie theater, a mall, your living room. Of course, if you partake indoors, that space is your oyster. However, that is an option not available to all, and there is a charm to a mid-July stoop. A sundeck, again, a porch. And always choose a shower over dousing yourself via spray or roll-on.
Heck, why not ride the crows? Windows down, stogie in mouth. A little 440 AC... four windows down and 40mph. Out in the boonies, perhaps. Live a little. Be a person. In six months, many of you now griping up storms will be dreaming of this, longing for this. Carpe yourself a slab of melted crow this very diem.
In closing, allow me to borrow from a previous bit of my own meanderings... "Come Summer, a gluttonous vitola, smooth and mild. Sweet and even sweeter in the dog days of lemonade and sunscreen fragrances, pool-side.*" I mean, if you can swing it. But don't just do that, mind you.
::: very :::