Paradise seems less like Paradise than its antithesis. I've lost track of the number of days the temperature has soared over 100º. People, animals, plants and chickens have settled into deep lethargy.
The grass seed we planted and nurtured through the spring appears to be dead.
The leaves of my beloved hostas are drying and curling up.
In the garden, only the sweet potatoes, which love hot, dry weather, are thriving. Peppers aren't growing and the green beans have dried up. The few tomatoes that ripen are spoiled by blossom end rot.
Nearby corn fields are showing signs of firing, which means the plants, stressed by heat and lack of water, are withering from the bottom up.
Really, there's little to cheer us, except perhaps the nice crop of onions and shallots drying in the snake room.
Only the crows seem to be having a good time. A family of five has taken up residence in the yard, attracted by the last of summer apples. The crows entertain themselves by picking apples and carrying them to the bird bath, where they drop the apples into the water. Then they pick up the apples and fly off to consume them. I haven't succeeded in capturing that antic in a photo, but I did catch one scene involving a crow and what appears to be a grape it had ritualistically dunked in the water.
Aside from crow entertainment, I've chosen the distraction of reading some mystery novels by Jon Talton. These stories are set in Phoenix, one of the few places in the country hotter than eastern Kansas right now. Somehow they make me feel better.
The grass seed we planted and nurtured through the spring appears to be dead.
The leaves of my beloved hostas are drying and curling up.
In the garden, only the sweet potatoes, which love hot, dry weather, are thriving. Peppers aren't growing and the green beans have dried up. The few tomatoes that ripen are spoiled by blossom end rot.
Nearby corn fields are showing signs of firing, which means the plants, stressed by heat and lack of water, are withering from the bottom up.
Really, there's little to cheer us, except perhaps the nice crop of onions and shallots drying in the snake room.
Only the crows seem to be having a good time. A family of five has taken up residence in the yard, attracted by the last of summer apples. The crows entertain themselves by picking apples and carrying them to the bird bath, where they drop the apples into the water. Then they pick up the apples and fly off to consume them. I haven't succeeded in capturing that antic in a photo, but I did catch one scene involving a crow and what appears to be a grape it had ritualistically dunked in the water.
Aside from crow entertainment, I've chosen the distraction of reading some mystery novels by Jon Talton. These stories are set in Phoenix, one of the few places in the country hotter than eastern Kansas right now. Somehow they make me feel better.
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