Quietly Growling.

 Quietly Growling.

 

Lewis used to work in this kind of heat in the Darr shop under all kinds of dozers, road graders, and assorted Caterpillar machines. The shop had a huge fan that blew air through the shop—much like one of those hot air fryers. He chewed on salt pills and drank tea by the gallon, and his clothes had to be peeled off when he got home after work. Not sure he even used hot water in his bath as most of the water from the cold-water faucet wasn’t really cold. And this summer reminds me of those days—and nights. Early—very early—morning was about the only time a person could go outside and still breathe while moving around. It was the kind of weather that made winter and ice storms feel reasonable.

 

Folks still get things done in this kind of heat, but common sense tells us it would be better to work at night rather than in the blistering daylight. Even so, Stephen called and suggested being in Electra at 6 this afternoon. Did not flat out tell him no, but after a few questions, it seemed the best thing to do was tell him either make the trip danged early or forget my assistance. Some of us are too danged old to deal with heat stroke. And we GOT this old by avoiding stupid trips in the heat. So, if he lets me know for sure that he needs to go in the early morning, then it might mean another trip to Electra tomorrow. Reminded him that a city worker died of heat stroke yesterday.

 

A big bag of goodies came for the hens yesterday. Now just have to decide how to store them and which little scoop to put in a container to give them just enough to tease their palates. Scratch has too much corn and maize in it to be good for them because it creates too much heat in their bodies. As it is, got up early this morning to soak the ground under the deck so they would have a cooler place to take refuge. Poor babies. Not sure if two of the black hens are going broody or if they are just making those silly chuckle sounds for the fun of it. One hen is still molting, but she may be laying anyway. But usually, broody hens don’t lay. Oh well.

 

Had planned to work on the roosts for the pullets today, but did not get it done. Honestly don’t know if the old woman is just becoming the laziest creature around or what. Have not vacuumed, mopped, or even done any more laundry this week. Keeping the few dishes washed up and a few things cooked is about the size of my endeavors. Did go out last night and soak the tomato plants and water the ONE squash plant. Not sure if it would just be cheaper to buy squash or pay the water bill. The city does not want anyone to turn on the water for anything except essential stuff during the day. Understandable. We are not going to get any real rain until the hurricanes start up the Gulf Coast. Any rain right now just adds to the stew effect. Not enough to soak the ground or fill up a stock tank. Sigh.

 

It does seem to me that constantly growling about the heat and lack of rain is not a very amusing subject if one can’t exaggerate and make funnies out of it—you know, so dry the trees have begun whistling for the dogs! Even so, will tell you that ONE watermelon is about enough for me and my neighbor Patty. Took some to her just a minute ago and was greeted on my side of the stone gate by Roxie. Had my head down and didn’t even notice her until she was right under me! Surprise! Those two dogs really love getting out to run. Glad they have the energy for it. About all the old woman can do is whistle for them to come back when they stray out a little too far. Patty just has to get ticked off good for them to mind her. Critters!

 

You know that all things eventually work out—whether it is heat, cold, dust, or fog from fires, but please remember to ask our Father for relief from all the extremes so many of us are enduring right now. Only God can control everything and all aspects of life.

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.