I sit, wondering if all the cotton's done been brought in from the fields and if the ol' plantation will survive one more growing season on just the money my Mama hid under the cornshuck mattress upstairs in Nana's room.
I am dewy with perspiring, and my little fan with pictures of magnolias on it just doesn't seem to be cooling me down. I reckon it to be about 104 degrees and my stays are just about to melt on me. But then I might be able to breath so that'd be jest fine.
My ears perk at the sound of a voice. It's sounds urgent and concerned to the future. It might be something I'm thinkin' I need to hear. It's coming from inside the big house. I rise up and shake out the crinolines - damning my overheated stays that threaten to smother me under my breath.
I simper into the house. Normally I trounce on thru and get Mama all het up at me, but I'm jest too dern warm for that nonsense today. I head on back to the gathering room. Mama's setting with her darnin out and Nana's snoring and drooling in the corner, her sock she's been knitting since the War of Northern Aggression still only halfway done.
I turn toward the urgent and concerned voice I hear. I see the most important gentleman in the neighborhood is with us. The one we listen to constantly. The one who imparts the most needed and helpful news to us as quickly as he can. We always listen to this man.
Slowly I sink down onto the cushion, wishing I could be rid of the stays and breath a little. Mama's telling me to hush up and listen, all the while handing me a lace hankie as she deems me to be a little "too dewy" for a true lady.
I turn to the voice. He has urgent news he tells us. Very important. He informs us to cover our vines and bring the animals in from the lower fields. There's a COLD SNAP coming! Right quick! We could be in for some serious chills.
My goodness, it might be as low as 89 degrees tomorrow!
I turn off the television and the weatherman and head upstairs for a sweater.