Henry David Thoreau was an archtranscendentalist, ever prepared to discover motivation from the natural world, which he carefully observed and in whose delights he took part. I read his journals every early morning for boosting observations on natural phenomena throughout the cycle of the year.
Yet the dog days of July and August got him down.
Consider this July 22, 1853, journal entry: “The hottest night,– the last. It was almost impossible to pursue any work out-of-doors yesterday. There were but few men to be seen out. You were prompted often, if working in the sun, to step inside the shade to avoid a sunstroke … . The domestic animals suffer much. Saw a dog which had crawled into a corner and was apparently dying of heat.”
No transcendence here. Just compassion for those who needed to withstand the heat, consisting of domestic animals. That passing away dog is a graphic illustration of dog days, however. Since Greco-Roman days, the term has actually described the scorching season when Serius, the dog star, rules in the sky together with the sun.
Thoreau’s physical service for relief throughout dog days was to come down into the muddy bottom of the Concord River, a bottom close fresh-water clams with which he played footsie.
Physically and mentally, he might relate to those who wished for shade considering that he frequently surveyed fields and timbers.
I can’t declare any physical connection to the farmers, migrant employees, building and construction employees and others who frequently work in the sun without the alternative of shade. I can just express appreciation for their work and feel some regret as I take pleasure in the fruits of their suffering.
I tend to come down into myself throughout dog days. I being in our dubious yard drinking gallons of iced coffee and nodding over secrets.
I canceled the summer season sessions of an interfaith conversation group I host. As evidence that I was too zonked by the heat to host a conversation, I used this: throughout the very first hot Saturday night in July, I enjoyed “Beach Blanket Bingo” on Spokane’s Channel 7 up until the air outside cooled off enough for us to start drawing it in through a fan.
Some may declare that in the Inland Northwest the nights are not hot enough, and the air is not damp enough, to produce that genuine wraparound dog day experience from which night and shade use little reprieve.
Still, I don’t need to advise Inland Northwest readers how continual the heat can be here, and how extreme and overbearing it can be, specifically if among those bubbles happens, and specifically when wildfires include smoke to the environment.
I’m sure more people will need to get a/c unit. I heard somebody on NPR who cautioned of warmer days and years to come note that a/c unit were bad long-lasting repairs considering that they didn’t truly cool the air however simply rearrange it, sending out hot air out the window. No question cities with all their a/c unit are hotter. No question those residing in poorer locations surrounded by city streets suffer one of the most.
And not surprising that that poorer nations bearing the impact of environment modification, and with it horrible and awfully long dog days, suffer much more. What can one do however have empathy, attempt to minimize our carbon footprint by taking in less, require reparations from greatly contaminating nations such as the U.S. and supporter for completion of making use of nonrenewable fuel sources worldwide?
I question that there is a particular dog day faith or designated dog day spiritual practices. If there were, they would undoubtedly not include attempting to go beyond the issues of this Earth. Rather, this faith and these practices would motivate us to take care of the warming Earth and all its animals.
Walter Hesford was a teacher of English at the University of Idaho, where he taught American Literature, World Literature and the Bible as Literature. He presently collaborates an interfaith conversation group, and belongs to the Latah County Human Rights Task Force and Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Moscow.
