Battening Down the Hatches Under a Blue Sky

There's been a welcome break in the heat, and I've been venturing out to catch up on things in the yard. Hedge trimmed, lawn mowed, garden weeded, tomatoes and roses pruned, gravel garden zapped with weed-killer (yeah, I know, but I've been weeding by hand for years and it's getting away from me). I've also found time to take long walks, picnic outdoors, and kick the soccer ball around at the park with my grandson, but I haven't gotten back to swimming yet. The bird-feeder is full, the air conditioner is cleaned out, and we're finally getting around to fixing up the trenched side yard to deal with rain overflow.

It feels lovely to be under a clear blue sky again, after the smoke and haze from the wildfires. It's nice stepping outdoors without immediately feeling like I've been thrown into a furnace. It also feels good to get away from the couch or desk and use some muscles again. I never feel better than when I'm outside in a fresh breeze, with plants and trees around me.

My husband and I have decided every decision we make and every reno project we undertake needs to be with weather and climate in mind going forward. The heat will continue to intensify in summer, the rainfall will continue to be torrential, the winds are growing stronger, and the snowfall will likely continue to break records in winter. If I can't sell everything and build an underground house (my first choice), I need to find ways to climate-adapt this house and the church we're renovating. We have to come up with ways to shield the sides of the house from the baking sun, first off. We may not come up with the most aesthetically pleasing solution, but practicality needs to win. I also need to consider how best to continue to garden and grow food, because outdoor gardening is going to become impossible here, and it will cost a fortune to run a climate-controlled greenhouse. Maybe a walipini? Could I even get permission from the city to do that? Do I turn my garage into a hydroponic shed? Time will tell...

There's a distinct feeling of battening down the hatches and preparing for something intense. A sense of urgency to act while we still can, and while we can still get materials. To put back-up systems in place. To get creative with our limited budget. My husband's on board as never before, and now's the time to strike while the iron's hot...and getting hotter.