Summer in the city is the season of construction sites.
As long as the sun shines there is no old warehouse than cannot be demolished and redeveloped as condominiums with ground floor retail space, no empty plot that cannot be filled with the foundations for new-fangled office buildings, no roadway that cannot be ripped up and repaved, no bridge that cannot have its troll evicted by men with scaffolding and structural supports.
Alas, the hot weather must dissipate all architectural inspiration. For behold the ugly, box-shaped horrors rising into the sky, hounded by the ear-splitting commands of pneumatic drilling and the relentless hammering of cheap steel, the bullying roar of the diggers, the ungrateful whine of cement mixers, and the inchoate directives of hard-hatted workers dressed in Day-Glo yellow and orange bibs.
It's not surprising Autumn is considered to be the time for contemplation: you cannot hear yourself think from June through August; and neither can the city planners and their builders, judging by the concrete and glass horrors they erect.
