I love humidity, really, I do. I love the way it buoys me up, an invisible presence; the way it surrounds me. I like an air that can hold its own.
Sometimes after a long day in a chilled office I walk the hot sidewalks of a muggy D.C. and my fingers fairly tingle with the moisture in the air. The feeling comes back into air-condition-numbed extremities. I feel alive again.
And yet ... this morning I woke up to a lovely, chilled, low-humidity day ... and it feels divine.
Suddenly, there are closets to clean and yard work to do. There are books to read and comb through, materials to research. And this isn't even counting what awaits me at the office.
Summer torpor slows me down, and that can be a good thing, a corrective. But after weeks of stickiness, this low-weight air is invigorating, a mountain stream. It gives me a first-day feeling, a necessary fresh start.