It's hot and hazy and the beach peas are crunchy underfoot from lack of rain. There is a burn ban, so no campfires.The sprinkler is on in the garden. Windows are open and the fan is on upstairs. I feel bad enough for the wilted crows in their black feathered coats that I'm not chasing them out of the cherries. We are all Northern creatures and not used to so much sun and heat. I walked in shorts this morning and had to tie my fleece around my waist half-way through.
At the assembly meeting last night tempers were a tad short. The mayor's roots here are 6,000 years or so deep, and she said this was too much. She likes warm weather and sunshine on vacation, but not at home. She did her best to encourage speedy deliberation. The assembly woman sitting next to me fanned herself with the agenda, and pleaded more than once for us to move along because it was so hot she didn't feel well. I was sticking to my chair and poured us both another paper cup of water.
The clerk is from California and looked comfortable in her sleeveless dress. "I love it," she said, as we packed up in not quite record time, but at least it was only a little after nine.
"Me too," I told her. "And be glad we are not in Japan, where it's 106, or Phoenix where it's 120 or something crazy. 73 degrees is a cool summer day in most places."
"I know, right? But hey, I'll take it," the clerk said.
(The high today is supposed to be 71, and they predict the weather will hold for another week or more, with maybe a few clouds tomorrow. Which is about as good as it gets for the 50th annual Southeast Alaska State Fair that begins tomorrow and runs through Sunday.)