A few summers ago, my Mom came over to the house for a visit. She said that on her way over here there was a squirrel lying in the middle of our road. When the car got closer, it didn’t bother to move so she slowed down. She said it just kind’a looked up at her, but didn’t bother moving. My Mom’s explanation? It wanted to die. It was so stinking hot out that it was trying to commit suicide. It. Just. Wanted. To. Die.
Yes, that says "102.9" degrees.
Now, I’m not sure if the local tree rats are contemplating ending their lives because of the heat again, but I’m guessing that any animal (other than say, a komodo dragon) is having a hard time staying comfortable in this heat.
The chickens are hunkered down underneath the overgrown forsythia bush, trying to stay cool by digging themselves little trenches in the dirt. I put the goats in the back yard & they are all under the shade of the trees, panting away. Harley is under a bush and Moonshine is underneath the porch. The cats, who normally meow & meow & meow to be let out haven't made a single request to be let outdoors and are sitting on the air vents sucking up all the AC. I was thinking about spraying the goats down with the hose, but I think they’d get too worked up over it to do any good. Don’t know about anyone else, but my goats just hate hate hate getting wet. Somehow I don’t think I could convince them that it would be refreshing.
The gardens need watering every day. Same with the fruit trees. I sweat out about a gallon while watering. Ick.
These are the times when Paul asks me if we should move to northern Idaho or Montana. I must admit that it’s tempting. Then I remember the blogger that introduced me to a Roof Rake.
I’ll guess I’ll just keep sipping on my iced tea and run through the sprinkler with Rhiannon a few more times. Before I render away to nothing. Hmmm….that may be my new dieting strategy.