Some like it hot; some like it not
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My back yard
is full of baby doves foraging. Worms? Could be any number of bugs. They have a
huge, juicy selection. All sizes, all colors.
Last night
we had a Bing-Bang-Boom-Jingle-Jangle-Whoop of a storm, precursor to rains
tonight, all courtesy of Hurricane Enrique. I had to get up in the night and
put rugs in front of the door and towels on the window sills to soak up the
water. Did I tell you my house is anything but tight?
When I went
out to survey my kingdom I found a lot of tree debris, leaves and twiddly
stuff, but no major damage.
After I hung
the sopping towels to dry on the line, I walked the lane and oh, my, a different
picture outside my wall. A lot of broken branches. So Leo, Josue, his daughter
Stephany and I filled several wheel barrows with downed deadfall.
On the way
back to the house, Josue with his broken foot and me with my cane, had a race
to the finish line. Stephany became the judge and drew the line in the gravel.
I won by a foot and a cane tip. He lost by a toe. It was a classic example of “The
Tortoise and The Tortoise”. With laughter.
An hour
later, edging toward afternoon, I stood on my patio and shook my fist at the
sky. “Not yet,” I yelled. “The towels aren’t dry.” The sky shrugged.
Throughout
June we had rain at least once during every twenty-four hours except for two
days. Maybe three, since one day might have gone twenty-six or seven. I didn’t
track that closely. Straight down rain, even with the storm effects. I love
straight down rain. No waterfalls cascading off my casa windows.
Gray days
later: This morning with great trepidation I turned on the hot water in my
shower. After five sun-less days, I took a deep breath and geared up for a
quick hop in and out of lukewarm water. My water heater consists of solar pipes
on the roof. Amazingly, we’d had enough glare, not sunshine, glare, yesterday
to keep my water boiling hot.
My shower is
the only thing hot. Temperatures have been steady in the 60s—lower in the
mornings, higher in the afternoons.
My friend
Cheryl, who lives on the Oregon coast north of Tillamook, wrote me about
Portland topping out at 116 F yesterday. She and her husband just built a
retirement home and mere days ago, decided to install a heat pump. It’s not as
hot on the coast, but, still. . .
Cheryl went
on to say, “I feel a bit spoiled, especially when I think of you, Sondra, not
having air conditioning or heating in your casita.” I’ll write back that I’m
happy she is feeling spoiled. I’m spoiled in other ways.
My son Ben, along
with a friend, escaped Seattle, where the streets and highways are broiling and
buckling. Sunday night they flew out of the country to Belize.
Ben wrote,
“Belize is a country of contradictions, hot and cold, democratic and socialist,
poor and rich, third world and civilized. We had baked breadfruit for dinner,
dipped in cilantro hummus. Ever had it? It’s crazy. It’s a fruit but it tastes
and has the consistency of fresh bread. Wacky. What a wonderful world we live
in.”
My daughter,
when living in Japan, had a close friend from Belize. Her family lived in
primitive conditions yet had a factory that bottled habanero salsa, among other
spicy treats. Dee Dee and I are having severe trip envy. How we would love to
be there sharing adventures with Ben.
I said to
Leo when he came to work in my yard, “Maybe I could get a ticket and fly out
tomorrow.” He wisely responded, “Maybe Ben doesn’t want to see his Mama this
week.”
Meanwhile
cloudy days reign. Enrique, now downgraded to a tropical storm, is blustering
its way into the Pacific, having rearranged two-thirds of the entire Mexican
coast. The sun will shine again. Rains will pour down. After all, this is the
rainy season and when one hails from Montana, every rain is good rain.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
July 1, 2021
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