This post is much too moody for daylight hours, so I’ve hidden it in minutes leaving up to the bewitching hour of midnight. A half-moon dangled between the pine boughs, and some star or planet was right beside it, keeping it company on a calm sky of the deepest ocean blue. A song then, for a day and evening that has been bewitching, bothersome, and bafflingly bewildering – a song that has been posted here before in Ella Fitzgerald’s brilliant rendering of it from sunnier days that seem to have taken place ages ago…

It was a bothersome day because of the bugs – even with a heavy spritzing of insect repellent, and a preliminary yard fogging, they would not leave me alone as I attempted to clear up our side yard. Upwards of ten years have passed since I last tackled that section of our property, and that’s much too long to let anything go. The vines have soared fifty feet into the pine and oak trees – the bane of  bittersweet and Virginia creeper – both taken a hold of the entire area. Sprouts of little shrubs have become trees, and pulling them up by the roots took its toll on my neck last week, and my back today – another bothersome aspect of the day. I know enough not to pull too hard, I really do, and still I find myself thinking I can do one more, that my back is the same supple thing it was in my 20’s, and it’s simply not. 

The bothersome grows into the bewildering, as the news reports of an assassination attempt on a possible dictator come onto the television, as if the news couldn’t get any more depressing and worrisome. That one evil, corrupt, indicted felon can so destroy a country with half the country’s blessing is still a bewildering mystery to me. 

And so I do my best to discover the bewitching that begins and ends the song, but I am at a loss. This summer only continues where last summer left off – no resolution, no happy ending, only more loose ends, more questions, more worries and sadness and wonder. 

Now I will move into a midnight meditation, to shake off the mucky emotions of the day and hopefully find a place of peace for a calm stretch of slumber. 

First things first: there is no ‘x’ in ‘espresso’. Kudos for getting that right in this song.

Second things second: not every song that hits big is a summer jam.

Third things third: this is a definite summer jam. Silly, trifling, bordering on ridiculous, with a frivolous, semi-cheeky video to match, Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Espresso’ is the sort of softly-percolating shuffler that crests easily through the sunny season, when pool, beach, sun, and surf are the only orders of the day. We so badly need that sort of escapism right now, I got out of my pajamas and sat for a couple of nonsensical espresso-themed shots while this song cast its languid spell over a hot and humid day.

I can’t relate to desperation
My ‘give a fucks’ are on vacation
And I got this one boy
And he won’t stop calling
When they act this way
I know I got ’em

Too bad your ex don’t do it for ya
Walked in and dream came trued it for ya
Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya
I know I Mountain Dew it for ya
That morning coffee, brewed it for ya
One touch and I brand newed it for ya

For those who care to know, size does matter… so keep your eye on the cup. (And relax, this isn’t a real espresso – nobody wants me on caffeine. That’s how foolish this whole thing truly is.)

Now he’s thinkin’ ’bout me every night, oh
Is it that sweet? I guess so
Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know
That’s that me, espresso
Move it up, down, left, right, oh
Switch it up like Nintendo
Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know
That’s that me, espresso

Oh look, I’m an actor, pretending this cup of Caffein-Free Diet Coke is a super-hot Espresso. Witness the range. Marvel at the wonder. Sip carefully at this [ding-ding] steam heat.

Lost in the heat and accompanying haze of high summer, along with some ruminative moments of melancholy, I’ve lost a bit of the way on this coquette summer journey. When the heat and humidity rise to such levels, it’s all I can do to get through the day. Committing to the bare minimum of a summer existence is sometimes the only way to guide one’s ship through questionable waters, no matter how temptingly warm they may seem. It requires careful calibration and delicate maneuvering. Especially when the summer has turned to pink…

You are my church, you are my place of worship
I heard you’re the plug, can I be the circuit?
When I got court, I hope that you’re the verdict
When you’re around, my insides turn inverted
My blood starts to rush when I see your doorman
I know you’re nearby and I know your purpose
Take one look at you, you’re heaven’s incarnate
What is this spell, baby? Please show some mercy

Kali Uchis sings a song about ‘Melting‘, and the pink and wet blooms seen here on the morning after a night of rain embody the sentiment perfectly. Are these blossoms melting or crying? Is their life elixir being extracted from them, or are they dripping out their dew willingly in some act of giving, some force of universal love? 

Melting like an ice cream when you smile
Melting, you’re a daydream, stay a while

Summer pink bleeds into sunlight. Forces of life, of blood so faint it looks pink, pulses through the sunny morning. Through closed eyelids, the sun appears pinkish, reddish… is that blood we are seeing, or not seeing, when our eyes are shut to the sun? Are we melting too, like the flowers?

I pray that I can learn to be funny
I’m watching every stand-up comedy
Just hoping that it’ll rub off on me
So you’ll smile at everything I say
You got some soft lips and some pearly whites (pearly whites)
I wanna touch them in the dead of night (dead of night)
Your smile ignites just like a candlelight (candlelight)
Then somehow, I know everything’s alright

Some blossoms bow, some blossoms bend, some blossoms reach to kiss the blossom above them. In all shades of pink, summer bleeds out a little each day, putting forth bits of beauty, spending them in measured doses. As much as we may want summer to be endless, its reservoir eventually runs dry, waiting to be filled by the rains of fall and the snows of winter. That underlying element of a finite limit, in something as wild and unwieldy as a coquette summer, is as bothersome as it is reassuring. Summer pushes and summer pulls.

Melting like an ice cream when you smile
Melting, you’re a daydream, stay a while