Saturday, May 26, 2012

It's The Heat

In the upper nineties today and everything is dry as dead bones on the desert floor and we move the sprinkler around from fig tree to fig tree, to mulberry tree to flowers. The babies are gone, the hawk's very life in danger and he doesn't even know that, Mr. Moon's gun is by the door.
No. He will not shoot him. He just really, really wants to.

Hot. Did I say hot yet? When I woke up this morning my hips hurt like old, burn-ache and it took me hours to move it on out and I moved slowly through this hot day and dried the clothes outside-three trips to hang, or maybe four or five, three to bring them all in. This could take all day. Almost did.

So hot. The AC is on and it rattles like huge machine breath, taking in hot hair, breathing out cold.

It feels like sin I can't live without.

I got dressed to go to the store and looked down to see a fat tick stuck to the top of my bosom. How many ticks have I taken off of me this year? Like Owen says, "Two and two." This is the number more than "One and one." The other day when I tried to get him to take a nap he pointed to the clock by the bed and said, "See? Time get up!"He cannot fool me.

Hot. Dry. Ache. A mother chicken screams for her babies. A day where nothing really clicks or falls into place without jiggling and adjusting. Well, except for that.

We slept cool on clean sheets for one hour's nap, got up and moved the sprinklers, got up and made a coffee, got up and this day goes on but my god.

Tomorrow I will take the four ripe avocados I bought today, cut them down the middle, scoop out the green, soft meat, mash it with tomatoes, garlic, cilantro, lime juice. Tomorrow I will squeeze limes and more limes and mix the juice with canned sweetened condensed milk and eggs and make pies. Tomorrow the children will come over and Mr. Moon will cook fish and I will cook okra and tomatoes. We take from every culture- the African, the Conch, the sea, the Mexican, we take and we fix and we will eat and Owen will put the candles in the pie for May and we will light them.
We will sing.

Oh. I need to go to the sprinklers on in the garden. The tomatoes refuse to fatten, the beans refuse to swell.

I don't blame them.

It is summer in Florida. It is hot.


  1. hot and dry here too. water water water. that's all I do. can't water enough and summer is only starting. peopese Clay

  2. Over 101 today. We hit the flea market today and then the pool. That first plunge into cold water after all the dust and sweat of the dirt mall made all the heat worthwhile.

  3. I am really sad about the babies. Predators are doing what predators do. But still.......

  4. I feel bad for mentioning how hot it is in Seattle. 74.

    love you.

  5. Ellen Abbott- We move slowly. We survive, huh?

    DTG- I MISS THAT POOL! Jesus, god. I miss my pool.

    Syd- It was a day of learning for us. The hard way.

    Madame King- AND you have a new dress?
    You're lucky I love you so damn much.

  6. This post was poetry. So absolutely beautiful. It created an atmosphere, took me right there. God you are good. Loved it, Mary. Just loved it.

  7. What a hard day you and Mr. Moon had today. I hope May's party is fun for all of you. I know it will be filled with love and laughter and good food and Owen and Gibson. I can relate to that achey feeling today.

  8. Your nerdy doctor sister is now assessing this blog for signs of tick-borne illnesses. Just so you know.

  9. You make me feel so pathetic - we are "sweltering" in a "heat wave" in the low 80's. And we have a hose pipe ban because apparently Suffolk in the UK is a semi-desert!

    So sad about the chick babies. I can just hear the poor mama screaming for her babies.

    Your recipes sound delicious.

  10. Liv- You are way too kind. Thank-you.

    Anonymous Jo- Today should be good. I think it will be.

    Gradydoctor- Believe me, I am paying attention. Lyme disease is the LAST thing I need. And my next-door neighbor had it so I know it's here.
    But yes, please keep your eyes out for something I might miss.

    Annicles- We think the eighties are rather temperate. Its all relative, isn't it?


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