July Heat

It is worth recording that today [Monday] is our 4th straight day without rain!  I must admit that now, at 6 P.M. the sky has darkened to the north-east and there is a clatter of distant thunder.

The thermometer outside the kitchen window stands at 81--a good drop from the 92 F that has been our lot since mid-morning.

 There was a massing of pewter-grey clouds this morning hovering above the blue.

By 8 A.M. with the housewifely chore of sweeping the porch accomplished and some rooted cuttings of begonia potted up, I was happy to come inside. My fresh cotton shirt had started to cling uncomfortably to my back.   The boy cats had been outside with me 'helping' to sweep down the concrete steps and carry off an armful of weeds and trimmings left from yesterday's labors.

The center of a coneflower, petals tattered by rain and heat.

Saturday evening at near dusk I began rather desultorily to root out sprigs of grass that had taken up residence in cracks along the front sidewalk. This brought me into close encounter with several lavenders near the porch steps; they have been looking bedraggled, stems and leaves going black with too much rain. 

I went out Sunday morning quite early armed with snipers and began a drastic pruning. One of the plants is likely beyond help; another that I pruned down to one or two stems may struggle along.  The third lavender in that area will do, I hope, unless we have another series of heavy deluges.

Coneflower nearly ready to bloom.

From the front steps I moved down to the gravelly herb bed and began trimming the lavender there. Most of these have fared better in the rain due to the gritty soil.  Jim sliced off a drooping branch of the rugosa which hangs over the steps [this done about 10 days ago] but I still managed to catch my fingers on thorns at the base of the bush.  I've not met anything with more bristly canes than a rugosa. 

Working around to the lawn edge of the herb plot [marked by another rugosa--neither of my planting!] I moved slowly up the slope, pulling grass from the tangle of sprawling thyme. Running my hand under the matted clumps, I hauled out old dead stems.  I have both lemon thyme and English thyme bordering the concrete walk; both have thrived there and I  think any gaps will quickly close with new growth.

Pulling away a clump of grass I discovered a toad sheltering in the relatively cool and moist space under one of the concrete slabs.  A few feet down the border I had nearly put my hand on a toad half buried in soil beneath the trailing stems of thyme. 

When I moved the blades of grass hoping for a clearer photo of the toad it objected to my encroachment on its space and shuffled farther into the darkness beneath the step.

I hoped to continue weeding all the way to the end of the concrete walk--several more plants of lavender and thyme to trim, more tuffets of grass beyond the steps.

I had been scrupulous about heaving myself up from my knees about every 20 minutes and going to the kitchen for water.  Reluctantly I had to admit that the rising heat was getting the better of me.  I was hot, sticky, tired. I reckoned I had been working outside for nearly 3 hours--enough in the punishing heat and humidity. 

Time for my second cool shower of the day--clean clothes [again!] from the skin out.

The boy cats had long since retreated to the cool of the house. 

They go outside early in the morning now and are anxious to come inside as the heat of the day increases--although, oddly, they are apt to sprawl in an upstairs bedroom where the A/C is not on except at night.

A few stems of platycodon [balloon flower] have persisted among the weeds near the retaining wall.

One of the two miniature roses which survived the early spring frosts. This one shares its container with a lavender which seeded itself last autumn from an over-reaching spray of  florets.

When I went out the basement door to empty the de-humidifier bucket, this Io moth was clinging to the door molding. I touched it very gently--it didn't move.

 I lifted one wing portion carefully, exposing the distinctive 'eye' marking. 

The moth fluttered to the floor.

The tattered edges on the wings suggest that it was nearing the end of its short life span. 

I lifted the moth carefully to a nearby begonia which summers on the shady porch. 

When I looked for it later, it had gone.

We again had business errands in town this morning--quickly sorted.

I had requested potting soil so Jim drove to the local Wal Mart [sigh] and parked the car near the pallets of gardening supplies at the far end of the lot.

I selected an 'organic garden soil' mixture which had been reduced to half price.

We walked to the garden center check out and I handed the thin sun-browned man minding the register the details that I had copied from the sacks of soil. He searched diligently through his binder of bar codes for soil, mulch and fertilizer, finally concluded that we must have chosen a 'hold-over' from last season.  We were dispatched with a cart to trundle a sack to the counter to be rung up--times 8 as I was pleased with the price. 

Having paid for the 8 bags I asked if we needed to present the register slip to someone over-seeing the lot of garden goods. 

The wiry gentleman smiled, "No, just load your 8 bags--most people don't steal dirt!"

Home again to scrub and boil new Yukon Gold potatoes. Jim decided to begin digging potatoes rather than have them remain in wet soil.  He has declared that he can happily eat potato salad for many hot weather meals.  Tomatoes are starting to ripen in spite of the wet; green peppers are outdoing themselves.  I miss the fresh green beans we usually harvest at this time.  I balked at the thought of picking bush beans this year--bought seed for the climbing variety--but 'someone' didn't construct 'climbers' for beans--so--we are without. 

Beets germinated erratically, Swiss chard not at all. 

Okra is coming on and Jim likes it breaded and added to a stir fry.

We work outside [or Jim in his shop] for awhile, come indoors to drink ice water, rummage out a fresh shirt.

July--not ever my favorite month--a time, where ever we have lived, of relentless heat.

 I am headed to the rocking chair on the porch to watch the green darkness move in--bowl of chocolate gelato in hand.