Daybyday it is getting warmer and warmer. The weatherman seduces with promises of cooler days and sleepable nights, but I think he is taking lessons from Spring, who flirts so outrageously with us in March and April, - promising the delights of green grass and blossoms while she trails through the hills dispensing cold showers and raw winds.

When we were young and living on an orchard/sheep farm sometimes when we were picking apricots and peaches the thermometer would climb well over 110 degrees Fahrenheit. One year we went from June until October without any rain (this is semi desert country). We tried to keep the house cool with a sprinkler running on the flat roof, trickling down over the edges in a wonderful imitation of rain. Life went on! We watched the sky for heat engendered storms that could demolish the fruit in minutes if hail accompanied the thunder and lightening. There was nobody to terrorize us about climate change, - fifty years ago we accepted the fact that some years were hot, and some years were miserable and rainy, and that's just the way it has been for milleniums.

Now as we get more elderly we retire to the central air and find a good book, or an hour at the loom, and peer out at the weeds in the garden as they soak up the sun and reach for the sky. In the meantime the flowers and the newly planted trees wilt despondently. I think there is a rule regarding this, but it escapes me (as so many things do these days.......sigh)

I am reading Alexander Smith McCall's Espresso Tales, and wish it was as long as The Rebels of Ireland, which also sits on the bedside table. But it is much too big a book for bedtime reading, - it is the kind you have to devote the whole day to, and perhaps on into the night if your eyes hold out!

And I am weaving tea towels, and planning a silk scarf warp and enjoying these perfect days of leisure with he whom I love best!