there is nothing like summer in the south. sweat stuck on your back, no shoes, relentless heat swamping you in a hug. the tea that’s a little too sweat and hugs that last a little too long. it’s sticky. it’s awful. it’s home.
8 notes
·
View notes
Popped down to the beach this morning to make a sandman...
22 notes
·
View notes
*waking up from a nap* What on earth is all that noise-
OH FOR HEAVENS SAKE! AGAIN??
2 notes
·
View notes
that tall sticky grass that hurts, air that’s so fucking close you can’t breathe in clean, cattle barely held in by rotted posts, cemetery grass covered in those white flower weeds that attract sweat bees so it makes it impossible to visit graves off path, snakes wait for you in stacked straw bales, lie naked on sheets in front of the rotating fan, your voice goes hoarse from being in the sun that stings, metal softball bats sounding off two nights a week across the street, cold drinks bought in the drive-thru past midnight to remind yourself that it’s not always bright and hot, but the tractors go back to tilling up dry dust by 7am
46 notes
·
View notes
I'm trying not to itch fire ant bites on both my middle and ring fingers because I know it'll only make them worse. But damn, these suckers ITCH.
1 note
·
View note