A MASOCHISTIC WHIM?

Last Friday, in spite of having that very morning posted a heartfelt whine about how uncomfortable I'd been and how much I disliked the recent heatwave, I decided to take a ramble and make a few photos.

No joke! Middle of the day, sun a'blazing, temperature pushing ninety, not a cloud in the sky or a breath of breeze stirring…and I set off to visit a nearby prairie. A stifling, wide open field of grass and weeds and waist-high wildflowers, where, on a bright August day, the merciless sun beats down on you like a sledgehammer!

Yup, it sounded like a masochistic whim even to me!

I did it anyway—no doubt a telling factor in regards to my already questionable sanity. What's more, I had a pretty good time, in a sweat-drenched, near-smothered, shake-and-bake sort of way. And I'll share some of the photos during the next week or so, starting with this pearl crescent butterfly atop what I think is a really scraggly ox-eye bloom.

Moreover, in retrospect I suppose there was some sort of lesson to be learned from my outing…though that might simply be a delusion resulting from early-stage heatstroke.

_____

       

TOO HOT FOR COMFORT!

I'm not a fan of hot weather. Daytime highs in the 70-75˚F range are fine—but anything above 80˚F is beyond my comfort level. And it doesn't matter whether it's a "dry" heat or accompanied by a humidity level one notch shy of rain. 

Hot is hot, and I flat don't like it!

The past couple of weeks have been a sweltering, searing ordeal. Typical for southwestern-Ohio this time of year. The dreaded Dog Days. And to us boreal-natured types, pure torture. 

Day after day, unrelenting highs of 90˚F, give or take a degree. Soaring humidity. No breeze. Like being locked in a perpetual sauna. 

My energy and enthusiasm have been completely zapped. Work on various projects has suffered. This means I not only feel miserable, but guilty about not getting things done as quickly as I'd planned.

Summer has always been my least favorite of the four seasons. Though I'll admit I'm pretty good during the first half—until the heat cranks up and begins taking its toll. While there's admittedly plenty of outdoorsy stuff to enjoy, lots to do and see, plus all that tasty fresh produce straight from the garden…the overall discomfort of the unrelenting oven-like weather—muggy, searing, to the point where I feel like a pork shoulder roasting over a charcoal grill—cancels out most of the pleasure. 

Guess I'd rather shiver than sweat!

_______

BAD ATTITUDE BEETLE

A few mornings ago when I was set up in the side yard, busily cutting some trim material to go around the kitchen window, this formidable looking beetle came marching across my outdoor work table. 

I sat the circular saw aside and bent down for a closer look. Viewed head-on, he looked like the starring creature from some 1950s-era horror flick.  

Oh, ho! The thumb-sized fellow reared-up, mandibles spread, threatening to do me immediate bodily harm. A wholly unwarranted attitude, I thought—after all, he was the trespasser. Not that I feared having a finger lopped off…but had I been foolish enough to give an investigatory poke, a reciprocal pinch would have been painfully swift.

Nope, I've been bitten, stung, and otherwise savaged by more than my fair share of critters over the years, and didn't need laceration-by-beetle added to the list. I was perfectly satisfied to admire this nasty customer from a safe distance while taking the time to make a few portrait snaps—even while he continued to act downright unneighborly. 

Afterwards, I scooped him onto a sycamore leaf and relocated him to the other side of the yard. "Go intimidate a squirrel, or try biting the groundhog up by the driveway," I said as he lumbered off. 

Frankly, I'm not sure even the neighbor's pit bull is safe with with this bad attitude bug on the prowl! 

––– 

     

   

WORK & PLAY

For the past week or so, I've been caught up in finishing the kitchen remodel which was begun and got mostly done last year. I've rearranged and added to the shelving over the butcher's block work table, installed a second LED light overhead, changed out a small LED work light over the sink, and fitted trim molding around the counter's backsplash area. Doesn't sound like much, I know, but each small task seemed to take hours…which probably says more about my carpentry competence than the actual work involved.

I still have to do trim around the window, and one of these days Mayladylove and I have to choose what sort of floor we're going to put down atop the subfloor. But that decision/job aside, next week it's on to the last phase of the bathroom redo…and when that's done, the great room—floor, walls, maybe even ceiling. 

But I'd like to take a brief break, so I'm thinking about playing hooky this morning to sneak away for a couple of hours of photography. Maybe at a little pond I like, which is just up the road, or perhaps I check out one of the nearby prairie patches—though flower-wise, not much will yet be going on there; prairies come into showier bloom later in the season.

Should my intended escape come about, I'll put up any good photos within the next few days. This post has pix I've taken recently around the yard—grab shots, made between the to-and-fro of work.

_____        

RED BUG & PICNIC TABLE

I saw this flame-red, quarter-inch-long bug climbing up a tiny stem amongst my walkway patch of chocolate mint, gleaming like a tiny jewel within the shadows. I have no idea what it is, though I'd guess some sort of aphid. But you gotta love such an astonishingly bright little creature…and I have enough chocolate mint about that I don't mind sharing.

It rained here most of yesterday, quite hard at times. Brief downpours that seemed almost tropical. I thought the river would be up more than it is. In fact, and in spite of all that rain, it has risen no more than a few inches and is merely murky but not muddy—fishable if I were of a mind to do so. 

Today it's supposed to be mostly sunny with a high somewhere north of 90˚F! Our hottest day of the year so far. Which is fine since we're going to a birthday party this afternoon for my delightful granddaughter, Anya Grace, who turned two last week. Perfect weather for celebrating a perfect girl!

On a side note, I expect the picnic table and benches I recently completed will get their first opportunity to be put to use. I delivered them to my daughter last weekend. A blog post or two back, I promised Gail I'd stick a photo of the end results in here when I finished. Well, I forgot to make a photo before delivery. My daughter, Lacy, snapped one for me after she'd done her painting. Trust me, her multiple coats of white paint makes them look way better. I am a carpenter's son…but I wholly lack my father's consummate skill and woodworking artistry. At best I'm adequately competent. 

–––––– 

A BIT OF SUN

It's sunny, though relatively cool…69˚F the last time I checked. Nevertheless there are several turtles—map turtles, I think—basking on a rock in the big riffle adjacent to the cottage. (Only two are visible in the photo above, but there's another, even smaller one, on the back side of the stone beyond the largest specimen.)

Getting a bit of sun sounds like a pretty good idea to me. I've been working inside all day—writing, fiddling with several household chores, warming up a bowl of soup for a late lunch. Not a full day's worth of labor, to be sure, but enough that I think I've honestly earned an hour's break on the chaise lounge—maybe even a snooze. 

Afterwards, there are 16 salvia plants, bought yesterday, which I need to get in the ground. And a whole bunch of stuff to water. 

––––––

POWER PAINT

Yesterday was a lovely June day—sunny and warm in spite of a few passing showers too insignificant to count. Myladylove and I mostly spent the day moving plants around outside and doing general yard work. 

The only semi-disaster occurred indoors, while I was off making a quick run to the grocery for a few summer squash to cut up and combine with some sausage for our lunch stir-fry. 

In one of those labyrinthian fits of female reasoning, logically abstruse to us lesser males, Myladylove decided to fill the brief minutes of my absence by repainting a kitchen wall. She taped off cabinets, corners and sink counter, spread a tarp on the floor, readied brushes, roller, and paint pan. All she then had to do was stir the paint in its bucket—for which we have one of those paddle mixers on a rod which you chuck in an electric drill.  

So far, so good. Being the designated family painter, she's successfully done this plenty of times in the past. What she hadn't done was used any power drill other than the old variable-speed Craftsman. When she realized the Craftsman's battery needed recharging, she decided to use the high-speed, industrial grade Dewalt. A drill is a drill, right? 

Well, not exactly, as she subsequently discovered…while also learning why paint mixing is something best done outdoors 

Where the Craftsman putters along rather sedately—a retired schoolmarm in her Buick heading home from church—the Dewalt snaps from zero to screaming-fast in about a millisecond—a top-fuel dragster being driven by Don Garlits! 

An explosive power-surge that's magnified if you've moved the speed selector up from 1 to 2!

Alas, I was not there to actually witness what must have been a truly awesome spectacle. When I got back, much of the clean-up had already taken place. The tarp, subfloor, and Myladylove's lower legs and feet were still covered in blue-gray Valspar acrylic latex…Arctic Ice, if I remember the hue's specific name. There was paint dripping from various points and objects, clothing, and areas of personal anatomy. But according to the perpetrator, what I saw paled by comparison to what I would have found had I arrived only a few minutes earlier.

However, all's well that ends well. Everything that needed cleaning eventually got cleaned, including Myladylove's lower extremities. The subfloor's blue-gray splotches will one day be covered. Lunch turned into an early supper. And though about a third of the gallon of paint is gone, plenty enough remains to get the job done. We'll have another go at painting that kitchen wall at some later date.  

I also suppose a lesson or two was learned in the process. Maybe.

But just between me and you…I'd loved to have seen the look on Myladylove's face about two seconds after she squeezed the drill's trigger!                

     ––––––––