It’s still summer. Most of our friends are away in the States. All cafés but one are closed for the entire month. There’s no work. Except there is for me, because I am planning weddings for a local hotel. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s buggy. Really buggy. Every night we are visited by hundreds or possibly thousands of: moths of all sizes, dragonflies, no-see-em’s (bobos), flies, mosquitos, tiny flying beetles, giant flying beetles, spiders, cockroaches, scorpions, and countless other bugs that I don’t know the names of. Not to mention other types of beasts: little mice, geckos. During the day we hear the clinging of cow bells who roam the area and the whinnying of horses, who also roam the area. Some days are hotter or buggier or more humid than others. Some days it rains, but most days it does not. The sky feels like it’s closing in on you. Your skin feels heavier, drenched and sticky. Your loneliness turns to boredom. Bad moods erupt out of nowhere when your body has decided it’s had enough. 


But, there are moments of sweetness. The relief of a cool breeze from the Pacific Ocean. The irrepressible greenness of growth covering the ground. The joy of seeing a friend, lifting you into mutual understanding. Simple pleasures of ice cream, tamarindo water, grilled meat tacos, fresh mangos, ice cold beer. The low and fast ocean waves, freshly delivering you to the shore. Long mornings sitting on the floor, making a mess, playful lethargy. Feeling the comfort of continuity. Loving a season for it being now, knowing it doesn’t last, and feeling the certain promise of fall.


Zoë DearbornBaja, NatureComment