Summer Most Heat Moon
The deck continues. Ruth’s out building a house using found materials while her Dad drives screws into cedar decking. Kate’s asleep for her nap, but I’m awake, an hour or two shy of a full night’s sleep. Kate’s sister Anne is out pruning the crab apple tree. This Johnson/Olson clan loves working. Or, at least, they work a lot.
Jon kvetches about the heat and the humidity and how Denver is better. But I reminded him of the 107 degree days I’ve experienced out there in August and early September. Oh, yeah. Well, it gets hot some. A dry 107 degree heat will cook a chicken, too.
Meanwhile, I’m downstairs, my head in Ovid, wrestling with declensions and conjugations rather than electric drills and Japanese saws. To each their own.