It has been hot this week. I mean hot. Shoes melting into the concrete kind of hot. I dump buckets of water into the potted flowers beside the front door, and still they dry up and die. I haven't walked the dogs more than a block all week, and as soon as we get home they stretch panting on the cool tile floor and roll their eyes at me.
Saturday I leave for Utah, where no doubt it's even hotter, but everyone consoles me with "But it's a dry heat." Which means I may not have to worry about the hardwood floors buckling from humidity, but I'll sunburn within minutes.
Not that long ago, it was -30, and my friend posted on Facebook something to the effect of, "First one to complain about the heat this summer gets punched in the eye." So I won't complain. I'll dart out into the garden to gather limp peas and bolting basil and I'll soak up every bit of summer I can. I know in three months we'll have snow again.