Living on the Surface of the Sun by Bea Tifton

Texas is a beautiful state. It has every type of typography one would want, seashores, mountains, bayous, forests, plains, and desert. There’s so much history in quirky little towns and big cities.

But Texas is pure D hot. One summer I asked Mom why we lived here. She replied, “This is where the stagecoach broke down.” Texas usually goes from summer to winter. And with climate change, it’s hot from April to October. I read that many of the people who are streaming into Texas move back after experiencing one of our summers. (Still, so many more are pouring in and I can’t find a darn parking space anywhere. But that’s a different blog for a different day.) 

Big Bend, Texas

South Padre Island, Texas

   

       

Houston, Texas

Davis Mountains, Texas

Big Cypress Bayou, Texas

South Plains, Texas

I cannot take the heat. I went on one date with a man who knew everything. It was exhausting. He’s a runner, and when I explained that I cannot exercise in the heat he said smugly, “Everyone can exercise in the heat. You just need to hydrate.” Did you notice I said one date? But I have a friend who was an EMT. He confirmed that once someone has had heat exhaustion, they are much more prone to it from then on. And I’ve never been able to get hot; I pass out, which is quite embarrassing and inconvenient. So, I stay inside when it’s hot. Thank goodness that pretty much everywhere I go is air conditioned. The man who invented AC, Willis Carrier, should have gotten the Nobel Peace Prize. Just sayin’.

Willis Carrier

It can be disappointing, though. Texas has so many fun festivals during the hot months, and I simply can’t go. And people don’t understand why I have to say no to invitations to hike, kayak, picnic, etc. Because, of course, all I'd have to do is hydrate.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a place that had four well defined seasons. Especially fall, my favorite. I love those photos of fall colors from other parts of the country. And we do have some color changes, despite what many people say. Still, no one is going to travel to Texas in the fall just to go leaf peeping. 

Lost Maples State Park, Texas

We’re in the hottest month of the year now. But I’m safely tucked up in my house with the air conditioning.  Just like Willis Carrier intended.

Photo Credits: 

Wikimedia Commons: "Texas Lone Star State"

Pexels.com: Genevieve Ma'yet  "Asphalt Road on Wasteland"

Pexels.com: Andrea Hinajosa "White and Gray Bird on Brown sand Near Body of Water"

Pexels.com: Jeswin Thomas "A Wooden Deck in a Forest"

Wikimedia Commons: Justin Cozart "Elephant Mountain"

Wikimedia Commons: "Big Cypress Bayou" 

Wikimedia Commons: "South Plains Texas Wind Turbines"

Wikimedia Commons: "Willis Carrier in 1915"

Wikimedia Commons: "The Lost Maples State Park Fall Colors in Texas" 

Pexels.com: Cottonbro Studio "A Woman Sitting on a Windowsill While Holding a Cup of Coffee and a                     Book"

THE DOG DAYS OF SUMMER

 by Judy Ann Davis

The Dog Days of Summer in Pennsylvania are those hot, humid days at the end of July and on into August when the temperatures reach the high eighties into the nineties. Growing up on our farm in Pennsylvania, the Dog Days meant hurrying to get the last fields of first cutting hay, dried, baled and into the barn.

Haying season in the Northeast typically begins in early June and continues through the summer and early fall, with multiple cuttings possible depending on the weather. Despite the blazing sun, the tiredness of the work, and the prickly hayseeds and stalks adding to the discomfort, summer and haying season always brought warm memories to store and hold dear.

Before we bought a baler, my father first used an old horse-drawn hayloader attached to the back of his 1932 flat bed truck that was once a milk truck. The driver of this set-up slowly maneuvered the truck up the rows of hay, making sure the tires straddled the raked windrows. The hayloader with its many tines grabbed the hay and moved it upward where my father, using a pitchfork, spread it evenly on the load.  It was then unloaded, lifted off the truck by a pulley and large fork on a track inside the barn.                                                     

From first grade onward, I was the driver. My brother had been born in January, so my mother was busy tending to him. I loved the outdoors, smell of fresh dried hay—and I loved machinery and its rumbling sounds, despite the smell of gas and oil.

Because the driver can’t see the load once the window opening behind him is covered with hay, I learned to listen to my father’s shrill whistle which meant to immediately stop. I would have to half-standup, jump one foot on brake and the other on the clutch. Usually, his whistle was for various reasons like he needed more time to spread the hay about, or a black racer snake came up onto the load and had to be pitched off, or the loader wasn’t operating correctly.

There were many, many things I learned living on a farm. Too many to tell here. But the first one is that farming is dangerous. You learn to follow directions early in life and do as you’re told. Breaking a rule can result in injury or death.

Many people ask whether it was tiresome and hard. Yes, at times. Especially during the Dog Days. After all, who’s fond of working in 90+ degree heat with hayseeds sliding down your back and sweat running into your eyes?

But it was also fun. And at the end of the day, there was always the satisfaction of a chore well done. . . even if you were just a kid. 

IT'S CHRISTMAS IN JULY!  

HERE IS A LINK TO "JUNE - THE PIANIST"  

JUST $0.99

 

WHERE THE WAGON TRAIN BROKE DOWN By Caroline Clemmons

One of my favorite songs opens, "Summertime and the livin' is easy...." In spite of that, summer is my least favorite season. Please give me spring and fall with more moderate temperatures.  I donate my sunscreen lotion to the sun lovers while I choose to remain indoors with a good book and soothing music.

That's what I'd choose, all right, but life doesn't work that way, does it?

Once we had a dark blue car with the same color leather seats. We kept towels in the vehicle to sit on when wearing shorts. We also threw a towel over the steering wheel if we had to park in the open. Nothing like fastening a molten metal seat belt buckle over a child, right? Car manufacturers have caught on since those days, and the interior of modern cars are not quite the roasting pans of the past. 

I live in North Central Texas, and we have many extremely hot days. Once when friends from Tampa visited, the temperature was 113F, unusually high for us. Their ten-year-old son asked me, "Why do you live here?"

My usual reply to this complex question is, "This is where the wagon train broke down."

I'm still not a fan of summer. 

PORCUPINE FESTIVITIES

 by Judy Ann Davis

The weather in Central Pennsylvania has been fickle this year. Rain falls unexpectedly every other day, followed by periods of extreme heat. It makes for a wonderful atmosphere for our garden plants and flowers which are flourishing this year.

In one of my flowerbeds, as you enter the house through the back door, I have a bed of grape hyacinth which bloom profusely each spring. This summer, some critter keeps digging holes and unearthing the bulbs every night. I was blaming it on a skunk, but the other night my husband discovered a porcupine in front of our unattached garage, located outside the back door. He (or she) was not a large one, and we’re guessing from his size, he’s probably a yearling.                    

After some research, I found that porcupines are nocturnal herbivore rodents, and they eat things such as fruit, roots, tree bark, leaves of plants, flowers, vegetables, and bulbs. They also have a preference for salty items.

FUN FACTS:

They are the largest rodent found in North America and weight around twenty pounds. Basically loners, these rodents prefer to live and forage alone. They are good swimmers and excellent climbers, regularly scaling trees in search of food. Contact with others only occurs during the breeding season when the young, called porcupettes, are born. Bearing twins is unusual.

by jggrz, Pixabay

     Porcupines have about 30,000 quills they can use for 

     defense, but they cannot throw them as many legends 

     have earlier indicated. Porcupines have a range of about 

     14 acres and live an average of 18+ years in North 

     America. 

     Now, the burning question is how does a homeowner get

     rid of this irksome rodent? Unfortunately, the only permanent way is trapping him or fencing your plants, garden, and flowerbeds. Sometimes a liquid repellent from your local hardware store will deter him.

So basically, I’ve concluded that we’re stuck with pesky Mr. Porcupine since none of the above is possible or has worked. I’m told, when he runs out of food, he’ll move on. I’m guessing we’re in a relationship with this critter for the remainder of our summer months. 

                                    SPECIAL SALE FOR CHIRSTMAS IN JULY!

HAY SEASON ON THE FARM

 by Judy Ann Davis

NOTE: This is a post from my personal blog

but, for me, very timely for June.

June is a paradox for children who grew up on farms. It heralds the end of the school year when there are no more books, no more homework, and no more long bus rides winding through the rural back roads ten times a week. It is also a month when the hard work on a farm gets even harder.

June is haying season. It’s a time when hot summer days bring temperatures in the 90s, and farm kids work a job that’s hard, dusty, and endless.

Outside, mowers clatter along in the fields slicing swaths of sweet smelling clover, timothy, fescue and other grasses to be dried in the sun. Later, the hay is raked into fluffy windrows and collected and hauled to the barn’s haymow, pronounced “haymau” with the “mow” rhyming with “cow.”

Before we owned a baler, we collected our loose hay onto an old flatbed milk truck pulling a hay loader. As the dried hay was swept up onto the truck bed in an endless ribbon, Dad spread it evenly around until it reached a heaping full load. Often he let out a sharp whistle to the driver to stop while he pitched out a snake who took a free ride up with the hay. A whistle would also ensue when part of—or an entire—load slid off the bed on a steep hillside with him sailing along with it.

When fully loaded without mishap, the truck was pulled into the haymow where a two-tined hayfork on a track running along the barn’s peak was dropped by a pulley and rope and inserted in the hay. Pulled back up by another rope, the hay bundle slid up and along the rail to be tripped and dumped at the proper location in the barn’s loft.

The words mowing away hay to a farm kid's ears will bring a series of grunts, groans and weary-sounding expletives as a retort. On a hot day, mowing hay meant tearing apart the big heap of hay with a pitchfork and spreading it out to all corners of the loft. The mow was often several temperatures higher than outside. This exhausting, sweltering task went on again and again until the truck bed was empty. 

I often mowed hay for my dad. And I can truly say, I uttered a relieved sigh each time the last forkful was dumped, spread, and I could escape the itchy hayseeds and broiling heat to get a cold drink. Then it was back to the hayfield to do it all over again, constantly searching the bright sky for the smallest hint of rain—the farmer’s worst enemy during haying season. 

~ * ~

Featuring FOUR WHITE ROSES 

Finalist in the Book Excellence Awards, the Georgia Romance Writers' Maggie Award, and the American Fiction Awards.

PORCUPINE FESTIVITIES

 by Judy Ann Davis

The weather in Central Pennsylvania has been fickle this year. Rain falls unexpectedly every other day, followed by periods of extreme heat. It makes for a wonderful atmosphere for our garden plants and flowers which are flourishing this year.

In one of my flowerbeds, as you enter the house through the back door, I have a bed of grape hyacinth which blooms profusely each spring. This summer, some critter keeps digging holes and unearthing the bulbs every night. I was blaming it on a skunk, but the other night my husband discovered a porcupine in front of our unattached garage, located outside the back door. He (or she) was not a large one, and we’re guessing from his size, he’s probably a yearling.                    

After some research, I found that porcupines are nocturnal herbivore rodents, and they eat things such as fruit, roots, tree bark, leaves of plants, flowers, vegetables, and bulbs. They also have a preference for salty items.

FUN FACTS:

They are the largest rodent found in North America and weight around twenty pounds. Basically loners, these rodents prefer to live and forage alone. They are good swimmers and excellent climbers, regularly scaling trees in search of food. Contact with others only occurs during the breeding season when the young, called porcupettes, are born. Bearing twins is unusual.

by jggrz, Pixabay

     Porcupines have about 30,000 quills they can use for 

     defense, but they cannot throw them as many legends 

     have earlier indicated. Porcupines have a range of about 

     14 acres and live an average of 18+ years in North 

     America. 

     Now, the burning question is how does a homeowner get

     rid of this irksome rodent? Unfortunately, the only permanent way is trapping him or fencing your plants, garden, and flowerbeds. Sometimes a liquid repellent from your local hardware store will deter him.

So basically, I’ve concluded that we’re stuck with pesky Mr. Porcupine since none of the above is possible or has worked. I’m told, when he runs out of food, he’ll move on. I’m guessing we’re in a relationship with this critter for the remainder of our summer months. 

                                    SPECIAL SALE FOR CHIRSTMAS IN JULY!

 

HERE COMES AUGUST...AND THERE GOES SUMMER!

 by Judy Ann Davis

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, 

and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time. 

                                                                                                     ~Sylvia Plath 

 

Here she come comes…August and her last days of summer. I don’t know how those days flew by so fast. My husband saw some sumac changing to red on one of his many jaunts around the area. For many, myself included, it’s one of the harbingers of fall.

 

And who doesn’t think summer is sliding to an end when our local Clearfield County Fair gets underway? If you are anywhere in the vicinity of the fairgrounds during fair week, you can smell its presence. The sweet smell of cotton candy and waffles dunked in sugar wafts in the air with the flavored smoke of hamburgers, hotdogs, beef, and hot sausage cooking on burners under the concession stands. Anyone who owns land near the fairgrounds have lawns and driveways that look like parking lots. Children gather in groups to lose their money on games of chance or to ride any fast moving mechanical apparatus that swings its riders high into the air and twirls them around and around.                                                                                                             

Speaking of lawns in Central Pennsylvania, they are morphing into shades of light brown—which means less mowing, less gasoline consumed, and less work. Scott is not heartbroken over this occurrence, even though he agrees a thunder storm once in a while is a welcome relief from the heat we’ve been having. 

 

August is the month of reaping what we sow. Tomato plants, scattered around in my flowerbeds, are dressed in bunches of still green tomatoes. But if you’re lucky, you can find a handful of small red cherry ones to whet your appetite or to use for a treat on your salad. Why do the flavor of fresh juicy tomatoes from the garden taste better than any you can buy at a store?

 

This year, we tried a bucket garden again, concentrating on spices. We now have parsley, lemon thyme, rosemary, sage, mint, along with two buckets of marigolds and a bucket of lettuce. I also have chives in a bed and a container of basil on our patio. What get used the most? Ironically, it’s the chives that come up each year without fuss or coaxing. 

 

For some odd reason, instead of writing, my wandering mind and body heads off to do other chores that need my attention. I think it’s called procrastination. It’s one of my many talents. Do you have an activity or special summer chore you put off despite the nagging of a little voice inside your head? 

 

I’m always curious to hear how others enjoy the end of the summer season. Drop me a line in the comment section below. And, let’s enjoy August as summertime in all her sunny glory abdicates and autumn splendor ascends the throne next. 

 

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SUMMER ON MY SWING: Pondering Answers

by Judy Ann Davis

“Hot July brings cooling showers, apricots and gillyflowers.” - Sara Coleridge

I admit as a writer I enjoy time alone to sit and think which is why I like July, why I like summer. My patio swing calls me to rest, enjoy the warm days or balmy nights, and ponder the world. It’s said curiosity is instrumental in driving our thought processes. It’s when I’m wrapped in that solitude when I ask questions which may or may not have answers: 

• Why can’t we see the wind? 
• How does the song sparrow learn its many different songs?
• Do woodpeckers get headaches? 
  
• What do northern squirrels think when they eat their first southern peanut from my bird feeder? Can they have an allergy to them? 
• Fireflies flash in patterns that are unique to each species. Have they ever learned another pattern like we learn second languages? 
• Why was the daisy chosen to be the flower plucked with the chant: He loves me, he loves me not?

 And my weird wondering brain chugs along…

Maybe in our attempt to explain things in nature, we need to accept there are mysteries which may never have explanations. As humans, we like explanations. We like plans. We like the predictable.

And, we like to ponder.

After all, isn’t that what creativity really is? The use of our imaginations or original ideas in the production of an artistic work?

So I leave you with this July wish: Take time to rest, relax, and contemplate the world around you. And if you get a bizarre or curious thought, drop it in the comment box below so we all can ponder the answer!

 

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