Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Gratuitous postcard: prickly over heat

No man, I suspect, ever lived long in the country without being bitten by these meteorol0gical ambitions. He likes to be hotter and colder, to have been more deeply snowed up, to have more trees and larger blown down than his neighbors.
My Garden Acquaintance
by Robert T.S. Lowell

The weather is a big part of life out here in the boonies -- when it's dry, we complain, when it's raining, it's always too much or too little. It's too hot or too cold or too windy or too calm. This is because so much of our lives is dependent upon whether or not the heavens will be kind to our crops.

We also like to brag about the forces we've survived. I, myself, have ridden out a few tornadoes, a couple of flash floods, and countless severe thunderstorms, as well as a couple of earthquakes and a very, very bad spaghetti experience at my grandmother's house. I still like oregano and basil, and have some of each growing in my garden. The basil is intentional, as it's not winter hardy in this climate. The oregano has volunteered and is threatening to choke out the columbine, the aggressive little b*stard.

I have yet to plant my tomatoes in the ground. They're still in little plastic pots on a shelf on my porch, just waiting for a raccoon to come along again and knock them all across creation.

I also need to mow my yard (what there is left after the many truckloads of mulch tossed about indiscriminately in the attempt to keep growth at a minimum, and, therefore to keep mowing -- and gas usage -- to a similar low). Add to this, I will be in very big trouble if the city decides that Queen Anne's Lace, swee'peas, mulberry bushes and raspberry canes are nuisance plants.

But all of that is designed to keep the dogs and children from trying to mess with the kittens -- and from peeking in my windows when I'm lolling about mostly (or completely) nekkid in the heat.

Which is what I will be doing tonight.

I haven't yet put my air conditioning unit back in the window for the summer, so it's the bathtub, the fan, and a prayer for the storm to come a little early -- instead of near sunrise, have it roll in just before midnight, perhaps? Or, maybe, have a winning lottery ticket waft in on the breeze and get stuck on my sweaty forehead, so I can run out and buy a house with a pool and insulation and central air conditioning and stuff tonight?

Eh. I'll get the bath ready.

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