Letters From Heather - 2020 - Heat Wave

(Good God, what a lovely piece from @AldoInHeaven. I think the conversation included: “The lines are just gorgeous, the sweeping shapes, there’s an almost frenetic energy to it but it’s so demure at the same time.” and “It’s like, it’s filled with punctuation marks. The large brimmed, sweeping hat, the hint of lips… and the bewbs!!! 🤪 And especially, as the viewer (for me), they can serve as an erotic touch, but only if you want them to be. Otherwise, they are just kind of resting there.” Needless to say, thrilled — for real, give him a follow on the usual platforms.

And with that… here’s the story to pair. 😘)

###

The unusually strict lockdown, Thank God, finally lifted. I can certainly understand why this country came down so hard — it’s lost a lot. But literally not being able to leave the house under any circumstances (except food, pharmacies, blah-blah) gets me a little more stir-crazy than I usually am. Little walks, you know? Helps you keep your sanity.

But, with everything easing up a little, I’m sure the whole country is happy. It’s one thing to have a heat wave; it’s another thing to be stuck inside dealing with it.

Out here in the country, among the low, ancient stone walls, rolling green fields, and occasional oak tree, you can walk for miles without seeing another soul, so if I keep my mask on my arm, I should be good to go. Plus, minimal interaction might not be the worst thing in the world

Not that it’s the dress’s fault. On the contrary, I have massive respect for this breezy little number. It’s been with me on the warmer days of the last few summers now, and somehow always manages to keep up with the girls. The flowing, cream-colored, flower-printed muslin hits just above my sandaled feet; above the elastic-banded waist, a square-collared bust with frilly shoulders has turned out to be waaay more billowy than I first gave it credit for. Still takes me a liiiitle off guard that even this dress used to manage to be kinda loose on me. Certainly not anymore… at the rate I’m going… I have this feeling that I might have to respectfully and tearfully retire it by next year.

But that’s for later. This is now. I’m overflowing my most comfortable walkaround bra a little bit, something that is emphasized particularly by the fact that the edges of the dark blue cups hit just above the strained collar of the dress. Rising Breadloaf Effect aside, at least I’m covered. For the most part. But, hey. It’s a pandemic, and I’m out in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like there are even that many people to shock. And, it’s hot outside, so I’m gonna wear as little up top as I can, thank you very much.

I already know where I’m going to go. There’s this old fence closeby that overlooks the entire valley. Rustic as hell, with miles and miles of emerald Elysium. I think I’m just going to stand there, take the weight off leaning on the top wooden beam, relax my shoulders, and just… stare. Breathe, and stare, and feel a little warm.

Or maybe I’ll find that big crook in the old oak tree where I would sit and read books during those trips when I was a kid. Wonder if I can still fit in that little bend anymore...

Before I step out the front door for the first recreational time in what feels like ages though, I am fully committed to not having a repeat of the burned-boobs-beach-trip from last year. Mental note for plenty of SPF, and that oversized straw hat I tracked down in my aunt’s wardrobe. The sun is high, and I’m not taking any chances. Just fresh air, and gasp — a little exercise.