The temperatures these past few weeks have ranged from 103-110 with no more than a half inch of rain. My walk at 7:30 every morning is a stifling move through a sauna.
My permanent hairdo is a pony tail.
It is too hot to cook, too hot to clean, too hot to move.
When we head out to Black Fox, I step out of the car and am immediately hit with an oppressive hot wind. Everything around us is so dry, I half expect it to spontaneously burst into flames.
The grass is brown and crispy.
The pond has nearly dried up.
The ground around it is cracked.
When it is this hot, everything else seems that much worse.
barn home was by this time to have been framed out; but we discovered last week that while we waited for the electricity, the framer took another job and so we have to wait.
I can understand, but we’re ready to go.
My only comfort is that when we do move it will be in the fall.
The heat will start to break, and the first days in our new
barn home will be the first days of autumn.
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