The Forest That Once Was Green

For the past two weeks, afternoon temperatures here have bordered, if not surpassed, 100°F. It’s toasty. Literally. All the beautiful green grass, that not long ago I couldn’t wait to see chopped down, has been reduced to a sad, crunchy brown. There are some people in town that are putting up a valiant fight against the inevitable yard death; sprinklers can be heard whirring as the sun dips below the hills behind our house. Still, large patches of toasted lawn have started to spread like an earthy rash.

Inside isn’t much better. We have one tiny air conditioner plunked into a kitchen window. It only has the power to cool a space the size of an average bathroom, so its efforts to chill the open floor-plan here are hugely unsuccessful. All it has managed to do is keep the house from getting hotter than outside. However, it never gets any cooler, and there isn’t even the bonus of a breeze.

The heatwave is supposed to be dying down at the end of this weekend. The weather app tells me it’s going to be in the high 80s-90s instead of hovering relentlessly at 100°F. It’s not a great drop, but it’s better than nothing. Perhaps now I can shower without sweating at the same time.

Title From:
Dirty Paws
by Of Monsters and Men