My friend Darrell always said that August 17 is when the hot summer weather changes. I'd forgotten that, sure that hot July would go into hot August, and it would be hot forever. Silly.
It's so cool at night I quit opening the windows, and added another blanket to the recliner where I sleep.
It's wonderful, even though the fields are yellow and crispy and dry. We even got a little rain. Now there's blue skies and some beautiful wispy clouds, instead of the dingy white smoke that turned the sun and moon red for the last month. We had a record 15 consecutive days of over-90 temperatures (breaking a record set in 1894). I hear that the fires continue and the smoke will be back, but maybe lighter this time.
The garden is stressed, but surviving. Yesterday I mixed up a lime solution and poured it on the roots of the row of tomato plants with blossom end rot. I picked all the affected tomatoes so the plants wouldn't waste energy trying to ripen them. Not every plant has it, and not every tomato on each affected plant has it, so we're hopeful.
C. is out in the hall picking out "Shenandoah" on the pump organ. I forgot to mention we have a pump – or rather – a reed organ! It's an oaken beauty from the 1890s, and the kids got it for us at an estate sale. Our favorite estate-sale people gave them a great deal on it. C. has been wanting a piano since we sold ours 20 years ago. This isn't a piano, but it's pretty dang cool.
KC, our handsome grandson, came up to try it out. It's worth having just so we see more of him. He's had no musical education, but is very musical, and can play just about any instrument he picks up. We're all jealous.
In other news, the sheep are sheared. Seven eggs today.