Don't think of it as a heat wave. Think of it as a literary opportunity.

I said I wouldn't complain about the heat this summer.

So these are not complaints; merely observations.

In fact, since it's summer, let's romanticize a little and find some intriguing if not especially enlightening descriptions for our current atmospheric conditions. You know, like those exotic narratives in the J. Peterman catalog. Just to put a more idyllic face on the, well, heat.

The canine resident at my house has been waking earlier than usual lately. It's more refreshing to "go walkies" in the early morning. Before the traffic starts. As the neighbors are stirring. And the asphalt isn't sizzling — oops, I mean the asphalt is still moderately cool and safe for little paws.

The lawns in our neighborhood stretch sleepily along the sidewalk; the grass brown and dying — I mean, sporting an curious sepia tone. Around the corner, a young man is mowing dust. (And weeds.) The leaves on our dogwood tree curl up toward the sun.

We're taking an abbreviated stroll today as my four-legged companion breathes in the air — now thick as Vaseline — and begins to pant.

She heads around the block at full-tilt. I try to keep up, and my own energy begins to wilt. We jaunt past yard after yard (including our own) showing signs of neglect — I mean deferred maintenance — as their owners shift seasonal priorities from horticulture to surviv- … I mean respite.

The rhythmic, and nonstop, hum of air conditioners competes with birdsong as our pace begins to slow. Somewhere a sprinkler distributes its aqua pura to parched — er, thirsty — flora. I make a mental note to get off this Latin kick, now, and revert to English.

Then I check the concrete to make sure it's still cool enough for the dog, who doggedly continues her trek around the 'hood.

My comrade plods along, stopping ever so often to sniff at the ground. Or a bush. Or a pole. Scents are so much more potent when the weather is … balmy. I wish she would stop doing that so we could just get home … I mean, how curious and innocent she is!

Someone told me once that humidity is terrific for the complexion. That's just another of summer's many blessings, I tell myself. Like mosquitoes and earwigs.

If you're trying to figure out where you're going, start by remembering where you've been

I look up at the sky — no clouds! — and muse about the chances of rain and how much longer we can get away without mowing the lawn.

I can feel micro-beads of perspiration beginning to spring up on my neck as we drag along toward our house. A shower! A shower! My kingdom for a shower!

(Um, what I meant to say was this — there's nothing like working up a good sweat to get the endorphins going.) (Thank God this is the cool part of the day).

And finally our home comes into view. Just a few steps more and I can turn off the spigot that feeds the soaker hose in a perhaps vain attempt to keep the plants along the front walk from withering.

I feel a tug at the leash. I don't think she's ready to go inside just yet.

I don't care.

Because it's about to get hot.

It's about to get really, really, really hot.

But I'm not complaining.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: How to describe Hagerstown's heat wave without complaining about heat