It’s been so very hot. Rising early before the heat of the day allows me a few hours’ activity but, even then, the effort dampens and frustrates my hair’s supposed straightness.
The plants are exhausted and thirsty. Some buds simply dry before opening. Others flower but quickly lose their petals, dropping wherever, confetti-like
Yet others twine joyously around despite their yards of dry branches, as if to say: you can’t catch me…
The grass yellows. I leave it long to keep it damp and pathways are trodden into its margins by animals I never see.
When cars pass dust rises and coats the bins –dustbins – by the side of the road, just as its cousin, the mud, did a few months ago but now the ground is cracked and hard.
It is summer, at last.