The summer heat was unbearable. It hadn't rained in weeks. Oh, maybe a shower now and then or a quick rainstorm for five minutes, but nothing substantial enough to end the drought. It was so hot, even my brother's dog, Bono, wanted to go back inside the house. Bono was a black Lab, so I could understand why he didn't want to be in the hot sun. I was taking care of him for two weeks while my brother was out of the country.

It was getting too hot to sit outside. The little bit of shade there was had vanished, and I wasn't able to concentrate on the book I was reading. Bono's panting grew more rapid and labored as he lay on the lawn next to me. I got up from my chair and headed toward the house. The dry grass crinkled under my sandals as I carried the lawn chair back to the patio. "Okay, Bono. In the house. I'll get you a fresh bowl of water."

As hot as it was, it didn't compare to the blazing summer afternoons long ago when I used to work for the city street department shoveling hot asphalt. I would work up such a sweat that it was actually soothing to get close to the back of the truckload of blacktop and feel its intense but dry heat as it evaporated my perspiration. Oddly, it was not unlike feeling the warmth of a blazing fire on a cold winter's day.

The rest of the year, when I wasn't working in the summer, I spent my time going to college as an art major. During one particular summer, our crew was paving a street a block away from the art museum. While I was on my lunch hour, I would walk to the museum to cool off for a while and look at the paintings. My favorite picture during those scorching hot days was Seal Rock, a seascape by Albert Bierstadt. I would stand quietly, gazing into the translucent green wave as it froze suspended above one of the seals. I imagined that I, too, was immersed in the cold green ocean water, at least for a few moments. The other seals rested themselves on the rock, bathing in the ocean's cool misty spray. Looking at the painting was very refreshing, and the museum's air conditioning didn't hurt either.

Presently, I decided to take Bono to the beach for a walk and a well-deserved swim; for both of us. After we strolled along the beach for a few minutes, I threw a stick about ten yards into the water. Bono eagerly swam after it in a hurry, refreshing himself in the process. When he got out of the water, he dropped the stick on the sand and shook himself off. I petted him on his glistening wet forehead. He looked up at me with his big brown eyes. For that moment, he reminded me of the seal in the green wave.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco

painting - Seal Rock, Albert Bierstadt, the New Britain Museum of American Art