The sun is the god of the day,
So turn from him your cool cool face away.
Lest in his hot passion he seeks,
To ravish the lovely rose petals that grow on your cheeks.
Your dainty, delicate cheeks.
I’ve known that verse most of my life, and while I have been known to misremember things now and then, I recall the chorus sang it during our high school production of Man of La Mancha. Nothing at all came up when I put the lyrics in a google search, so you’ll just have to take my word for it, flawed memory and all.
I often think of these words at this time of year, when I become hyper aware of the sun’s intensity.
I was discussing this with friends the other day – two of us redheads and one very fair blond — all women of a certain age — and we came to the conclusion that the normally-pigmented just don’t understand how harsh, hot and glaring the summer sun can be to those of us who evolved in fog.
The summer sun is why I was drawn to this image of a covered bridge — it, and its grove-like setting suggests the perfect respite from the bright and glaring outer-world.
This image was taken 2010 in New Hampshire? New Brunswick? See what I mean about my memory.