Summer Heat

The east meadow yielded 4 bales of hay on this third cutting of the season.

Mark Beachy roared in with tractor and mower on the 17th; he and his father, Titus 'rolled' the hay and loaded it home just before dusk on Saturday evening.

This is a fine arrangement: the Beachys  have the hay for their cattle; our field is cut. 

The back garden for which I had lofty visions, is a mess! Blackberry lilies have seeded and sprawled, as have coneflowers, monarda and a welter of lemon balm. Weeds abound seemingly encouraged by the layers of mulch I lavished after a mid-spring weeding. 

The zinnias were volunteers that sprang up from last years' planting alongside a row of beans in the veg garden. I found them, a few at a time in the grassy edge of the garden or emerging where J. intended planting potatoes. In spite of my vigilance in rehoming them, several have bloomed in the now tangled veg garden.

Flowers in planters near the front steps have struggled in the heat. I was rewarded last week with one delicate bloom of dahlia.

Jim's melon patch exploded with some of the tastiest and biggest melons we've grown here. They ripened in such abundance that many were conveyed to the Beachy's produce farm for them to sell.  They  raised an earlier variety which finished bearing about the time ours went into high gear.

Each spring in early May I sow nasturtium seeds in large pots, keeping them in the greenhouse until all risk of frost has passed. I allow some of the summer blooms to go to seed and give the ripened seeds a prod down into the soil, often having a fresh crop of flowers in late August and through September. This year the seeds sulked, germination was scanty and growth was slow. Two of the four pots planted have rather half-heartedly come into bloom. 

Michaelmas daisies better known as New England asters, are traditionally harbingers of autumn, beginning to bloom along with Joe Pye weed and goldenrod. My seed-grown varieties tend toward earlier bloom. Strangely, the lower leaves yellowed and shriveled early on giving the plants a tatty appearance. 

For over a week the heat has been punishing--temps in low to mid 90's F. by afternoon. In this our 14th summer in south-central Kentucky I should have remembered not to be lulled by a few cooler days. 

Last week on several days when the sun had moved to the west side of the house, I tackled the over-grown sage, marjoram and thyme in the raised bed near the front steps. I ruthlessly hacked down leaning stalks of coneflower, tugged out the unresisting dry stems of poppies. 

Along the south-east retaining wall coneflowers have taken over. the Knock-Out roses there have had a poor season, as have all my roses. Japanese beetles moved in early and have stayed late. The untidy coneflowers need cutting back, but the goldfinches have found them and are enjoying the heads already gone to seed. I'm torn between attempts at tidiness and enjoying the flash of the beautiful yellow birds swaying on the stalks.

We are stuck in the heat wave until at least Monday when temps are supposed to drop to low 80's F. 

Meanwhile we limit outdoor work to the most necessary; I scurry out with cat litter and kitchen scraps, peg sheets on the back porch lines, return to the cool house with clean cotton shirt clinging damply to my back. 

J. goes out at dusk to mow grass which by noon the next day lies in brown shreds. I brew iced tea, add slices of lemon. Elmo the not-so-bright cat rushes to the kitchen at the sound of the ice maker spewing cubes, stretches to snatch one from the dispenser. 

The cats venture out first thing in the morning, picking their way through dew-soaked grass. As the sun pierces through the morning mist they are ready to return to the house, slightly disgruntled, suggesting that we open the door that leads onto the screened porch. 

The porches are unwelcoming in the heavy heat; I go out to refill the hummingbird feeders, water the rosemary plants that summer in a row along the railing's edge, then shut the connecting doors to contain the benefit of the A/C.

Meals are very simple; the hot weather doesn't inspire appetites.

I read, spend hours at my desk: genealogy, history look-ups, typing a few letters, retreating to a corner, book in hand.

Summer will end as it always does. September will bring warm afternoons, tempered by cool misty mornings and evenings that begin to draw in. 

I say, bring it on!