People used to believe that snakes went blind during the Dog Days of Summer, because it's a time when some snakes shed their skin.

That night after Ma made her scrub the floors, and after dinner of thin chicken soup with scraps of chicken from last night's dinner, the girl lay in her bed thinking about the witch woman. Maybe if she could find the woman again, she could take Papa's rifle and make the woman tell her how to make the rains come. She threw off the hot sheets and tip-toed to the open window even though there wasn't even a hint of a breeze. Staring out at the fields around the house she wondered where the woman lived. The girl hadn't ever seen the old woman before, but that didn't mean much. Marcus would've known. He always knew stuff like that. But then again he got to go into town a lot with his Pa. She only went into town to go to school. Sighing, she was about to go back to bed when she heard her Papa's voice from downstairs. It sounded like he was fighting with Ma again. They fought a lot when the rains didn't come.

She crept to her bedroom door and opened it slowly, then slid out into the hallway. When she reached the top of the stairs, she could hear her parent's voices from the kitchen.

"How dare they!" Her Ma was saying. "How dare they even think it?"

"It's been almost three months with no rain." Her Papa replied. "People was bound to start thinkin'."

"But it's absurd. She isn't even a summer child. She was born in autumn. It has to be a summer child."

"There ain't none left of proper age. Town's gotten too small."

"But can't we weather one dry year? Surely after last year's...after the rains came, the crops were bountiful and people had plenty. If we all share, we can survive one dry year." Her Ma's voice was all sharp and prickly. "And if not, why her? The Rouston's have three. Three! It isn't right."

"They ain't proper age and you know it."

"We should leave. We should've left last year."

"And go where?" Her Papa's voice was tired.

"Somewhere where we don't have to sacrifice to make the rains come."

"Hush now," the girl watched her Papa's shadow move close to her Ma's across the worn wooden floor, "there ain't no place like that. Not anymore."

The girl thought she could hear her Ma crying, but her parents didn't speak anymore, so she slipped back into her bedroom and lay down on her bed thinking about what she'd heard instead of thinking about the old woman.

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Because the star Sirius, also known as the Dog Star, is so bright, the ancient Romans thought it contributed to the sun's heat. (Farmers Almanac)

The woman smiled in a way that didn't seem much like a smile. "There's some folks think they know a way to make the rain come."

The girl wasn't sure what that meant, but it was even hotter by the lake than in the grass and she was getting mad at the woman for talking in riddles. "Do you know or not?"

The woman's not-smile faded and she opened her mouth to speak-

"Girl! Come away from there!"

The girl cringed then turned to find her father coming down the path that led from the south field and the house to the lake.

"Your mother been lookin' for you."

The girl nodded but didn't move. "Yessir."

Her father eyed the old woman warily. "You ain't talkin' crazy talk to my daughter are ya now?"

The old woman's face had gone stern. "She asked me if I knew how to make the rains come."

The girl's father frowned, his weather-tanned skin going pale, but then he turned to his daughter. "Ain't no one knows how to do that. We just have to pray to the good Lord and if it's his will, the rains will come." He was close enough to take her arm now. "Now come away home or your ma will go mad lookin' for us both." He faced the old woman once more. "You just stay away from her, you hear?"

The woman stood her ground. "Was just trying to be the girl's friend. Seems she's missing one."

The girl's father's face tinged red and he spun and pulled her toward the path without saying more.

When they were in the dry, dying stalks of the south field, the girl spoke. "Pa, is that woman a witch?"

He didn't stop or look at her. "No. She's just a crazy old woman. Stay away from her."

"She said that this plant called al-gee killed all the fish in the lake."

"See, crazy talk. The heat boiled the lake and killed them fish."

The girl frowned. "Oh."

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Because the sky shifts about one degree every 50 years, the dog days of summer today are not the same as those of ancient Greece that were their namesake.

"Should you be out here by yourself?" The woman was looking out at the lake.

The girl considered lying, after all, she shouldn't really have been talking to a stranger in the first place. But then lying seemed like more work than telling the truth, and it was too hot for more work.

"No. I used to come with Marcus, but he's not around anymore."

"Mmmm," the old woman nodded, "he was your friend?"

The girl itched her bare leg with her foot, but the sand on the bottom of her shoe rubbed off on her leg and made it even itchier. She wished she could rinse the sand off in the lake, but then it would stink like dead fish and probably still be itchy from the al-gee. "Yeah, he was my friend."

"Must be hard to make friends all the way out here."

The girl wasn't sure if the woman meant out by the lake or outside of town, so she said nothing. Then she
looked the woman up and down again and a thought came to her.

"Are you a witch?"

The woman looked her in the eye with eyes so pale they seemed colorless. "Now why would you say that?"

The girl shrugged. "I dunno. You've gotta stick and know about al-gee."

"And what if I was a witch? Would you be afraid of me then?"

The girl stood up a little straighter. "Naw. But I'd ask you if you knew a way to make the rains come."

"Hmmm. I see." The woman gazed up into the blistering sky, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. "And what if I did?"

Her heart beating faster, the girl almost stumbled toward the woman. "Then I'd ask you to show me how to do it."

"And what if I told you only a witch could do it?"

"Then...I'd ask you to do it."

"And what if I say no?"

The girl's lower lip jutted out. She thought about Papa and Jonas and not having any milk money. "Then I'd find a way to make you do it."

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According to the Farmer's Almanac, the dog days of summer follow the summer solstice and last for 40 days.

The lake wasn't far, but walking in the shimmering heat made it seem farther away than usual. As she got closer, the rotten stink of dead fish assaulted her nose. Sometimes when it got this hot the lake would shrink and fish would get caught in the muck and die. She figured this summer was hot enough to kill some fish, but when she got to the lake it didn't seem any smaller. Then she saw the dead fish washed up on the shore. There were a lot of them. "Ew!" She said to nobody.

Prodding one of the dead fish with the toe of her tennis shoe, she watched a little crab scuttle out from underneath it's body and disappear into the murky water. She wondered if the crab had been eating the dead fish or had just been hiding in the shade. Probably, if it had been eating the dead fish there would've been a lot more crabs than just one, like ants on a watermelon rind at Aunt Clara's picnic last year. She shuddered thinking about as many crabs as there had been ants.

"It's the algae in the water."

She spun around and saw an old woman with shaggy, grey hair and a walking stick standing behind her. "What?"

"There's too much algae in the water. It kills the fish." The woman said, nodding down at the dead fish at her sandal-clad feet.

"What's al-gee?"

The woman cocked her head. "It's a kind of water plant."

The girl shook her head. "Plants don't kill fish, animals do. Like...like," she struggled to remember an animal that ate fish, "bears."

"Not many bears around here."

The girl glanced up and down the beach. It was true. She'd never seen a bear eating fish at the lake. Or had ever actually seen a bear. Only pictures in books. Marcus's books mostly. Boy books had way more pictures of animals like bears and sharks than girl books did.

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Following the rise of the star system Sirius, the dog days of summer bring sudden, violent thunderstorms, lethargy, drought, mad dogs, fever, and bad luck. (ref. Wikipedia).

She stretched out in the tall grass and watched the cottonwood seeds drift by overhead. Marcus had called it summer snow. She liked that. He'd always had a cool way of describing things. Sweat pooled along her back making her T-shirt stick and her hot skin itch. No doubt she'd be sunburned by the time she got home. A sudden moving itch on her bare leg made her jolt upright and brush a big black ant away. Why did the outside have to be ruined by so many bugs? She and Marcus would've stayed up and caught frogs at night if it weren't for the clouds of mosquitoes. And how many times had they been driven from the shores of Tawny Lake by the biting flies?

She stared out across the field. The wildflowers were wilting in the heat and the grass was tinged brown with drought. Papa said that if it didn't rain soon, he'd have to pay Jonas to irrigate the fields again. Summers that Papa had to pay Jonas meant that she'd have to wear last year's clothes to school in the fall and that she wouldn't have any milk money. She glanced up at the robin's egg sky and frowned at the lack of clouds. If Marcus were still around, he'd probably suggest they do a rain dance or make an offering of spit or blood or piss to the rain gods. It was too hot to dance around, but she considered making an offering. After all, she still had the pocket knife she and Marcus had used to become "blood brothers." But no. She'd already gotten punished for cutting her hand the first time and she was too thirsty for the other offerings.

A bee buzzed passed and landed heavily on a blue flower next to her. She watched it scrounge for nectar and pollen while the stem drooped, then makes its way noisily to the next blossom. Papa once stepped on a bee hive in the back pasture and got forty-two stings before he reached the creek. Mama said he could've died. She wondered how this fuzzy creature bumbling among the flowers could possibly have chased her father from the pasture to the creek. It looked too heavy to even fly from one flower to the next. "It's so slow, I bet I could catch it." She told no one. But what was the point of catching it if no one was there to see it?

She wished Marcus was there to watch her. He'd once caught a fish with his bare hands in the pond. He'd stood very still in the water for a long time with his hands under the water and then scooped up a minnow when it swam over his hands. She'd dared him to eat it, but he'd let it go instead. If she'd caught one, she would've eaten it. There's no sense in catching fish if you aren't going to eat them.

Sweat dripped into her eye and made it sting. Maybe Papa could just hold her over the crops and she could sweat on them. She rose and wiped her damp hands on her shorts. Sitting in the grass wasn't as fun as it used to be with Marcus. Glancing around her, she headed toward the lake instead of home. She wasn't supposed to go there by herself, but now that Marcus was gone she didn't know who would go with her. Mama was busy with washing and cooking and Papa was busy with the crops. Or had he gone into town today with Mr. Butler? She couldn't remember. One hot, cloudless day bled into the other and stretched out as far as she could think.

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The slanted summer sunlight called to her. Come out, come out! I am light, I am warmth! I am flowers lilting in the breeze. I am the buzz and hum and frenzy of the day. So she went out into the world of bright yellow rays. The sun beat down hot and steady and the warm wind tilted the flowers, but did nothing to slake the daystar's burn.

The tall, majestic trees called to her. Come here, come here! We are shade, we are shelter! We are leaves rustling in the breeze. We are the coolness and peace and safety of the forest. So she went forward into the dense thicket and into the world of green. The woods were dim and close and the movement of the leaves was a soft symphony, but the air was moist and mosquitoes pricked her skin.

The wide, deep cave called to her. Come in, come in! I am dry, I am hidden. I am smooth stones beneath your feet. I am the dark and stillness and chill of the earth. So she went down into the secret grotto, drawn to the quiet and a world of black. The chamber was silent and filled with shadows, and the cold stones were soothing on her feet, but the darkness was frightening and she was getting thirsty.

Her frantic mother called to her. Come home, come home! I am lonely, I am worried. I am strong arms to hold you. I am the comfort and soothing and joy of family. So back she went, up from the cavern, there through the forest, into the sun. Her mother was soft and gentle, and dinner and drink were waiting for her dry tongue and empty belly, but the summer whispers still filled her ears.

The high, silver moon called to her. Come away, come away! I am magic, I am night. I am the marriage of the day and the trees and the cave. I am the danger and the excitement and the mystery of a dream.

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In dappled sunlight she walked, the crunching of gravel underfoot mixing with birdsong and wind sighing in the trees, but she heard only the beast. The warmth of the day did not penetrate the frost of fear within her. She'd been trying to tell herself that everything would be okay, but the words were brittle and crumbled as the path stretched out endlessly before her. "You're okay. You're fine." She whispered in case it was listening. A rumble in the distance made her glance over her shoulder, but there was nothing to see but the path disappearing into the trees.

If it comes I'll hide in the woods, she thought, but then the sides of the trail slipped away into steep slopes and she knew that she'd never reach the safety of the trees in time. Her breath came ragged as she increased her pace, heart flopping in her chest like a fish on the dock. Why had she come here? Why had she tempted the roaring creature who owned this path? A hint, a promise, a hope? All withered to nothing now. No, not nothing, a trap.

Another echo of something large and menacing chased her down the path, and she ran, startling a deer down in the valley below. I am hunted and alone, and no one will know where to look for my bones. Too frightened for even tears, the stones blurred by under her feet. But then the distance shimmered and a crossroad appeared. She'd known it was there, but still it seemed a miracle. I'm so close! 

Phantom shadows and low vibrations bore down on her, but she didn't dare look behind her this time. Terrified that she'd trip or that her legs would give out, she kept her eyes to the ground. No stray stone would be her downfall. Please oh please!

Then suddenly she was free. Turning away from the path once so enticing, she didn't look back. There was only one way forward now, and if she stared behind her into the monster's eye it might pull her back again, its massive form a gravity of horror calling her like a tossed stone to the ground. Hidden now, she slowed, but her mind would not be stilled by any distance. Her feet had touched its path, and the beast had her scent now. The memory of fear was fresh and alive in her mind and much harder to kill. She would never escape.

Outside there is cold and a dusting of snow; a semblance of winter. Where is the soft, deep blanket of white tucking us into our winter slumber? Where is the icy majesty of frost in the silence of the frozen world? This is a loud and naked and echoing chill. Bare branches clatter together with no snow to muffle them, and the brittle ground crackles like thunder underfoot. On a hill with sharp green blades of grass sprinkled through with white overlooking the black skeletons of trees of a mocking forest, I am alone. The wind is a blade cutting through my clothes, my skin, my bones, but it is not a winter gale. It is the breathe of a different season, a new unnamed season of death and want. Not winter with its crystalline beauty, gentle quiet, restoring dormancy, but a semblance of winter.

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When the summer sun starts to slant in the sky and the breeze takes on a chill; this is when autumn begins. It is the briefest and most beautiful of seasons. The fall doesn't need flowers to brighten, for the very leaves explode with color. It is a time of abundance before the winter with fields full of gourds and trees full of apples. Sitting, watching the dappled sunlight dance through crimson leaves, sipping a cup of warm cider and breathing the chill air of fall is a perfection too sweet to last. We, lovers of the ephemeral fall, are those doomed to longing. There are poems lamenting the long winter and those wondering at the endless summer, and the spring that comes between these seasons is but a herald of warmth and life to come. But autumn is a wonder that fades quickly, leaving us with bare branches and cold, hard earth soon to be covered by blankets of snow. Every leaf that spirals to the ground is a reminder, like a grain of sand in an hourglass, of fall's demise, of cold, of death. Give me not daffodils or roses or a sculpture of ice, but a bouquet of autumn leaves frozen forever in their nameless fleeting colors. Capture for me that ephemeral fall, for that is where my heart will be. That is where I will wait for thee.

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The deep purple orange of the pre-morning sky was slowly giving way to blue. Amanda stood on the bridge overlooking black, swirling waters. Strong arms encircled her waist and she wiped away tears.
"What is it love?"
She turned almost unable to meet Grayson's dark eyes. "It's my birthday."
"A day of celebration."
Amanda buried her head in his shoulder to hide the betrayal on her face. "Often."
"Then what shall we do today? Climbing trees? Hiding and seeking? What will make you happy?"
Amanda pushed away from him and forced herself to meet his eyes. "Not today."
She brushed a tuft of Grayson's white hair off his forehead and allowed her fingers to trail down his cheek. He grasped her hand and kissed her palm.
"Then what?"
She lifted her other hand and showed him an old and battered jack-in-the-box. "It's time to say goodbye."
For the first time she could ever remember, his sharp, pixie-like grin turned down into a frown. "Goodbye?"
The tears came again. Her eyes were sore from crying. "The time has come to set aside childish things."
Grayson's bushy white eyebrows furrowed. "Words from The Book."
Amanda nodded and turned back to the dark waters. He placed a hand on her wrist. "Don't. Please."
"The time has come..." Raising the box, she couldn't finish.
"But I love you."
Amanda let the box drop from her hand and with a splash it disappeared into the darkness. She was alone.
"I know."

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