The cumulus clouds are pushed back a bit to send the temperature to the high eighties. The humidity is 100%. If you look at the concrete garage floor where the dog is stretched on her side, you can see her breath condenses into a pool of moisture next to her snout. Standing is a sweat inducing activity. Dawn disappears to her air conditioned upstairs sewing room which doubles as the dog's bedroom and guest bedroom. During the day the futon is converted into a couch. When one of the kids visits, we wash the cover, vacuum the mattress and turn it into a queen-size bed.
Dawn finds the nylon screen material stored in plastic totes in the basement. In years past, I not only lived in a tent during the summer, when as a teacher I had two months of freedom and no paycheck, but camped frequently in wilderness areas in northern Minnesota where my Step Dad was born. She's making an elastic screen cover for our straw hats. No more black flies and gnats up the nose.
|corn/potato patch and new canopy frame|
|older, modified canopy for drying onions|
The second 80X10 potato patch, a similar size onion garden (one of four) edamame/horse radish/ pole bean and the fourth cabbage/broccoli/peas plot round out the picture. If I used a larger format picture it would take me hours of downloading, but you'd see a better picture.
|long shot of the rest of the plots|
Last night I sat next to Mandy on her futon trying to figure out a way to comfort her fears as lightning flashes and thunder rumbles off the hills in our valley. I softly tell her she'll be all right and the storm will be over soon. My stroking and petting don't seem to matter, but the consoling words quell some of her shuddering. The humidity soars again today. I don't have to water. I'll check the rain gauge later to learn the details. I feel fortunate that I can check other blogger's posts, delete bacon from my e-mail and go online to learn how to care for Tall Utah celery. If that doesn''t work, I'll drive over to the Amish farm and speak with the Matriarch. She knows everything. I'm amazed that it is a week before I learn of the former town chairman's death. The Amish give me all the detail of severe headache, followed by a fatal stroke, the wake, burial and the widow's trip to California with the kids. Who needs a computer?