Sweltering Days

Saturday's new pasture has been grazed down pretty well already.

The heat this Memorial Day weekend is nothing short of brutal. I've been trying to pick the pastures, build garden beds, and plant daylilies, but the process is very slow. One cart of horse "muck" at a time is all I can manage. Every stage of the new garden beds saps my energy. At times the air feels too thick to even breathe properly. Today I hit upon a system that works pretty well.

First I gather a cart of muck or bedding or rocks--whichever step I happen to be on--then take a break to read until the sweat stops pouring off my body. Each time I step back itno the house I announce, "It's brutal out there," which is true but I still turn around and head right back out into it. After perusing another chapter of today's novel, I heave myself up off of the front porch rocker and head back to work.

By the time I planted three dozen daylilies in a little bed, I was ready to head in for a shower and a nap. This is some serious weather.

Today the hay is being rolled into round bales.

Just across the road, the neighbor farmer is engaged in his annual Memorial Day weekend activity: haying the fields. As I made my measly attempts at working about this farm, I marveled at the fortitude of traditional farmers. They work until the job gets done; no rest for the weary. It's a hard way to make a living.