We're in the middle of a hot spell. Too hot to garden. Too hot to do anything, except sip beverages and read under the ceiling fan.
I picked a little at the quack grass this morning in the shady spot at the bottom of the garden. The shade was gone by 10 so I retired inside, you guessed it, to sip and read. We got the line of food dryers all set up on the counter in front of the dining room window, and stuffed them with oregano. C. has already been drying greens for the bunny winter. She has an old five-gallon lard tin (the perfect container for many things) three-quarters full of crispy leaves, and will fill many, many tins before summer is over.
We hung a mosquito net (the kind you put over your bed in the tropics, or see layered with lace and crap in Victoria magazine) in Nadine's room. I'll make a rack out of wood or PVC to fit under the net and we'll hang bunches of herbs there to dry.
The three chicks continue to be utterly charming. I brought them lunch (smushed-up hard-boiled egg, wheat berries, rolled grains, and sunflower seeds) and clean water and caught the piebald one dancing and pooping in the water dish. She ran under mama, embarrassed. I held the little black-and-tan one for a few minutes yesterday. So soft!
Couldn't get the tiller to start, dammit. Too hot to till, anyway. Too hot to do anything but sip and read.
Work tomorrow, lo. And garden tour after.