|This morning's upstream-from-the-cottage view. The water is at least a foot below its usual level.|
Hot! That's the outlook at least through the middle of next week…and possibly forever. Temperatures in the upper-90s˚F and a heat index of over 100˚F. That's in the 37˚C range for you Celsius folks. And the fact that we might see a few light showers over the next couple of days only means the tropical humidity will be adding to our misery with sticky clothing and sweat running everywhere.
If I wanted to live where I could stew in my own juices on a daily basis, I'd move to Florida.
The river in front of the cottage is in sad shape—lower than I've ever seen it and looking disconsolate as it trickles through the riffle, whose stones, baked pale in the relentless sun, are eerily reminiscent of the whitened, long-fallen skeleton of some great desert beast. The pace of the current has slowed to a crawl. I haven't seen a heron or kingfisher in days, and even the turtles have been absent from their basking rocks.
I'm watering the plants every other day—a good, long soaking—and still they're drooping. Even the prairie patch up the road looks dry and listless, lacking the usual animated fluttering of butterflies checking out the coneflowers and bergamot.
Seeing as how this is only the end of June, you have to wonder what July and August have in store…