Hot and Sticky: 95 and rising and what to do

The stifling heat is magnified by the humidity, both of which are pressing down on me. Making a decision not to be slothful, in spite of the available excuse today, I take out the bucket and the plastic bowl piled high with peelings, rinds and shucks to bury it under the straw mulch surrounding the tomato plants. As I lift up the book of straw, already starting its rotting process, worms and ants scurry back into their miniscule holes in the moist dirt. Grayish fungi are beginning to grow in the strands of the rotting straw stems and I think that these worms and ants will relish this new feast appearing unexpectedly. I smush the treats down and stomp the straw back down securely, hoping that the neighborhood coons don't think this is a dinner call to them.

The water has sat in the long hose and heated up so that the washing I give to the bucket and bowl with the spray nozzle clean off every bit of slimmy peel residue. I step out of my scuffs and rinse my feet, and , leaving them off, I take the plastic bowl into the rows of green beans. Several succulent pods, not yet pushed out with their seed, hang on each tender plant, so I carefully hold the plant as I pull off each bean off. Some of the pods hang down in groups of two or three so that I can grasp and pick all of them in one efficient movement. By the end of the two rows, the green sticks are almost toppling off the white bowl. Several have fallen into the dirt. I pick up the bowl and the rest of the beans and cradle them in my skirt so as to not lose any of this first picking. I know they will not be fancied up, these first of the season! Just butter and a little salt and fresh ground pepper will make this delectable dish. The beans are bagged and laid up in the crisper.

Now I enter the pole barn and place myself in front of the sewing machine to mend. Measuring the side of the caftan with the opposite side, I determine where to start, and renew the seam from top to bottom, on one of my favorite pieces of clothing. The cloth is fine Egyptian cotton, with a batik pattern of white over the forest green dye, perfect for deck sitting to drink the morning coffee. Finishing that, I hem the pant legs I have cut off at 24" inseam for Rodney's short legs. Two minutes each leg and I'm done, except now I notice that there is a rip in the seat. So cutting a 2 inch square from the cut off material, I place it on the inside and run the mending stitch back and forth. Perfect and looks good enough for everyday. It's amazing that we don't mend things anymore. We just pitch them. I should do more mending. I'm going to put that in my list of things to always do! I will mend that ceramic vase next week too!

On the way to taking the mended and hemmed pants and the caftan into the house, I see that the lilies I purchased last Thursday do need to be planted NOW. Why do I have a penchant for leaving purchased plants in their pots for too long? Making a quick survey of possible sites for the day lilies, I pull out the sweet woodruff that has begun to spread to unwanted parts of the garden. The singularly fragrant odor sweetly reminds me that I forgot to harvest some of the flowers this May to make the yearly May Wine. Oh well! I push the spade into the soil at the cleared spot and loosen the clumps. Into the hole goes the new miniature lily (I think it was called something with fairy in the name) right next to the coral bells. A perfect place for a fairy flower. Then over a few feet, there seems a perfect spot for the red daylily right next to the wheelbarrow which is filled this year with pots of purple pansies which had caught my eye at the nursery this spring. Over in the official "lily" garden I find three spots unoccupied. The melon colored Asiatic will look good right between the two tea roses. Those two have traveled with me through 40 years of gardening and over 10 moves. The lemon lily goes right next to what was the bird bath , now only a blue ceramic base. I must mend the broken basin next week too. The scarlet one, still with 5 more buds to enjoy in the next few days, is placed in the hole left by the dead butterfly bush, now showing no promise of revival.

After turning on the sprinkler for the thirsty raised beds, I pick up the mending, taking it into the house and toss it on the bed. I'll put that away later. In the bathroom, I strip out of my sundress, and wiggle into the swimsuit left on shower head to dry. I pick up my sandals, made specifically to go in water, from the doormat and carry them and the towel down the steep stairs leading to the creek, followed by Bingo, always a dog game for puddling in the creek. Slipping into the sandals, I hold onto the bridge as I enter the water from the bank, just a little too steep for an unassisted step into the water. Slowly I ease into the cool water bubbling over the waterfall. The temperature is definitely not right for a plunge! This is easing-in water. It takes about ten minutes of easing before I am finally sitting on the gravelly bottom. Fifteen minutes of churning, bubbling water over my body has my blood cooled enough. Bingo and I take the stairs up a single step at a time, and by the time I'm at the top, my breathing is heavy and I need the bench placed at the stair top. Dog and I rest before the walk up the rest of the hill.

Cooled but not wanting to return to hot and sticky, I make the least troublesome dinner. Each of us have a muskmelon quarter, and already made chicken salad on a lettuce bed . Iced herb tea, and I'm now enjoying a cool evening.