hot

That one word says it all. Hot. You could add "dry" and then you'll have the complete package. Our day is built around this prolonged blast of desert like heat.

We are up early because we're still on edge about the lurking nocturnal predator. I know the orange cat has been hanging out here when it's dark (I see its tiger-like large form moving stealthily in the courtyard just before daybreak), but surely he can't be the one who snatched our young hen!

Today, though, the morning is calm. No sign of any disturbance in the barn. And since the morning air feels fairly pleasant in those early hours, I stay out and tend to the flower beds before even a thought of breakfast crosses my head.

What am I doing with the flowers now? Well, they need to be watered. Most of the established ones will get by without rain for a few weeks. But the new ones need help. I'm thinking it surely is unfortunate that I planted so many new ones in a year cursed by a drought. Between the 225 new perennials, the 67 trees and the 70 tomatoes, we have our work cut out for us!

In truth, I like watering plants. It's a chore that I find deeply satisfying. I imagine their dry roots gratefully filling with water, ready to grow, to deliver needed nutrients. I refresh one little one and move on to the next. Sometimes with the hose, sometimes with a watering can. As I've said before, it's meditative work.

Nonetheless, this year the typically satisfying task has been a challenge. I'm never done! I do two fields one day, and the third and fourth the next, and by the time I've cycled through the entire rotation, a week has passed and I need to go back to fields number one and two again. 

When is it going to rain?

(water drops from the hose, not from the sky)

(Unie with her unique cheek plumage)

(what's a peony without an ant...)

(Cherry, picking on my tub flowers)

(the two oldest ones...)

(Dance, keeping an eye on... everything!)

Sometime toward noon we pause for a very late breakfast.

 

And then I continue watering. All the way until it's time for me to drive over to the Flower Factory, where I've been cleaning them out of their last ancient day lilies. They're getting rid of all of them and I am just the sucker to bring some of these gorgeous flowers home.

In the late afternoon, I leave the garden and start in on dinner. The young family is here again, for the first time as a family of five.

(the middle child)

(the oldest)

(the youngest)

It's hard to think of Sandpiper as just less than two weeks old. It seems he's been around for a while!

We have the fan out on the porch, but no one's really complaining about the heat. I think the first weeks of this intense summer-like weather is a bit of a gift to winter chilled northerners. It's only after a week or two have passed that you begin to wonder if you've been cheated of a typically milder month of June.

Later, much later, I sit back and think about the summer before us. I'm sure it will speed by too quickly. It always does. For now though, I have grandkids in my days and a whole season of lilies to look forward to. How beautiful is that!