All is quiet here this weekend. Somehow fitting as we wade through a hazy hot spell. The humid air hangs like the thirsty leaves of my garden plants. Even the industrious dragonflies and bumblebees are taking long breaks, no place better to go and no desire to go there without a breeze to help them along.
Aside from a gully washer that wreaked havoc in the raised bed mid last week, precipitation is a foreign concept. Crisp is how I would describe the state of our vegetation. Though, as things go in these parts, it’s guaranteed that Mother Nature will soon counter with more rain than we can handle. It’s a maddening summer cycle I’ll never be able to fully stomach. At least my garden has a rain barrel savior. For now.