notes on a heatwave

23 Jun, 2025

Most of the things I do in my life walk a fine border between stupidity and curiosity. For one, I tend to ignore severe weather alerts. I never go too far - you won’t find me at the waterfront during a hurricane - but I like to be reminded of the natural power of the Earth at its strongest and most extreme moments. I don’t want to forget about it, as it seems so far away when I spend my days indoors at work with my eyes clinging to 24-inch monitor screens. I love outside. I love nature, despite all the peril she can inflict on our little human lives.

And in her power, she has given us a colossal heatwave today. I’m writing to you from my red and blue plaid picnic blanket, perched on the grass on the side of a small incline. I’m poorly positioned as my other writing utensils and water bottle keep rolling away from me. The 40 degree weather is making my eyes feel like they’re bulging out of my head. My senses feel heightened, every body sensation more noticeable. I’m grateful for the weather’s ability to make me cognisant of every drop of sweat down my neck, of every labourious breath, of every piece of skin cooking under the light of the sun. If I focus, I swear I can hear my melanin cells absorbing the UV.

It’s the hottest day here that I can remember in recent history. Somehow, it was only a few weeks ago I was complaining about the snow left on the ground. It’s hot enough here that people will die today. Pre-existing health issues, old age, and no A/C are a terrible combination in this heat that used to be so rare. It is only June. What do they mean when they say it can get hotter than this? I repeat the old climate activists’ adage to myself, “it is the coldest summer for the rest of my life”.

A small nuisance as I write this page, I keep having to recline backwards so as to stop my sweat from dripping onto these pages and spreading the ink, making my words indecipherable. It mimics the same cloudy way the words are feeling in my head.

I’ve maintained my fascination with weather since I was a little girl. I remember in the -25 degree hellscape of winter I would would give away my thick winter coat at recess to the kids who came to school a bit under-prepared. I’d like to tell you that I did that because I was an unselfish child - but this would be a lie. The shedding of my coat was an experiment in seeing how much cold I could endure, and to feel the power of the Earth on my bare skin, chilling through the layers of my body. I always chickened out eventually. Just in time to prevent frostbite.

I have the urge to chicken out again as the hot day is turning into a hot night. There is no reprieve in sight. I wonder when the last reprieve of my lifetime will come. I can only be grateful that the hope is still there.

In the haze of this new evening I am listening to Ora Cogan’s Formless. It is a psychedelic country album that feels exactly like the air outside.

I am snacking on fresh strawberries from the big farm outside of town - so ripe it’s painful.

I hope you have your reprieve, wherever you are.

yours,

sam

special thanks: to this song for carrying me through the heat: