Tuesday, June 9, 2015
We were spoiled while in Europe. I never did learn Celcius, but I knew delicious temperatures when I felt it and it didn’t matter if the temps were recorded in F or C. A few showers. Never needed to convert my pants to shorts, though I also never had to put long johns on. Now that we’re back in the Northwest where a heat wave is going on.
Hot. Hot. Hot. 90 degrees. I blamed the guy who brought the Kubota Tractor back today as he just moved from Texas where he was forced to sell his herd after a nine-year draft. He told me that they just couldn’t feed them and hoped Oregon would be better.
Strawberry patch, really my only crop planted, in a way, has enjoyed the shade the blackberries have provided.
But since it’s at least ninety degrees, out there, it didn’t take long before sweat was pouring in my face.
I managed to clip the blackberries and pull up a few weeds. It’s going to take me a while to tame the garden. I may have to start getting up early to get a jump start on the heat as there’s no sign of the high temps letting up in the near future. It’s probably too late to plant more strawberries, but
I’m hoping to get the rest of the garden started tomorrow.
Meanwhile, life’s back to the usual. I’ve not cooked in three weeks; that was a nice break, but I’m looking forward to my own cooking. If June is already scalding hot, it will be a summer of bbquing.
I never did take that nap I mentioned in an earlier blog. My goal is to make it to at least eight, but fatigue is creeping in; I don’t think I’ll be able to make it another hour and some. I had hoped to watch the Red Sox overcome the 1-0 deficit with the Orioles. It’s been a game of reverse calls. Dustin was ruled hit by pitch, though the Baltimore commentators thinks the umpire blew the call…