July’s almost gone.

And I’m ready to move on. A brief reprieve this morning from the oppressive mugginess, and surprise! Today is the day our A/C unit decides to give up the ghost. It’s warmer inside our house than it is out.

Walking downtown this morning against a rare cool July breeze reminded me of the roadtrip through the southeast I took in 2009. The weather felt exactly the same as it did that July, when I walked by buildings I never thought I’d eventually work in. I wasn’t aiming to end up here—this was just a pit stop on my way to the Carolinas and the coast. I wanted to move. No, I had to move. I needed to be on eastern standard time. I took to this like my life depended on it. Maybe it did.

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The lightness of the morning air reminded me that autumn is knocking. And it can’t come soon enough.

Through the windshield at a red light, the sun slides through last night’s thin layer of haze.

Reaching out fingers to touch the green.

Shadows, reflections, and a darkness hidden slowly revealed.

The long shadows make me think of the first good stretch in the morning—shaking the last bit of sleep out—arms clasped above your head, reaching, on tiptoes, back arched like someone a foot taller has grabbed your wrists and is pulling you back, sometimes it feels so good, you can’t help but let an involuntary sigh escape.

Shadows disappear as the sunlight runs like a faucet slowly being turned on to a trickle.

Darkened restaurant promises, even where there’s no one inside.

She’s slowly making her ascent as the workers of the city in their still-clean uniforms start to make their rounds.

Bus lines and pedestrian crossings color the street.

Late night transportation propped up with kickstands stand guard the next morning.

The locked up playground, hidden from the sunshine for now. You can see the line of light on the roof. The sun-bleached equipment can’t hide for long.

A bold red door under a stained glass window.

The sun hasn’t quite made the last stretch over the hill, yet.

By the time I make my way inside and get settled, a sliver of sunlight will make it through the tiny row of windows near the ceiling of my third floor and bounce off my desk, giving me an inordinate amount of joy.

On my way there, I catch a few pops of color for my collection.