We’re Having A Heatwave

Dang, it’s hot. Yesterday, our thermometer sensor on the boathouse got to 99°. And not a cloud in the sky. I’ve restarted sprinkling every morning, but the plants don’t seem to notice. By 7:30-8:00, I’m out working in the yard and quit at 10:00. My clothes are soaked, not just sweated on. When I take off my shirt, it’s so wet, it seems like it just came out of the washing machine. Even my belt is wet. 

I’ve given up on the vegetable garden. There are 2 eggplants left, and I don’t see any more forming. The okra gave up after producing a couple of pods. The one bright spot is my southern peas, which our resident marsh hare has been eating. A couple of days ago, Grant restrung the monofilament lines to create bunny-proof fencing. The peas are coming back, so perhaps it’s working. Or the rabbit doesn’t like that I’ve cleaned out the huge patch of Spanish needle (Bidens alba) that was its cover right next to my garden. Question: why don’t marsh hares eat that? It’s a native, always everywhere. Even the heat doesn’t seem to affect it. I can’t keep up with weeding it out of my yard. Surely having an ever ready source of food would be desirable. Perhaps it’s a green of last resort, when all the yummier plants are gone. Sigh.

Last week it rained several times, even 2.5” one day. That dropped the temperatures to the mid 80’s. It may also be why we had not 1, but 2, Cuban tree frogs in our toilet. (Patten thinks they might have come down roof vent.) The thought of one jumping on me as I sat just about finished me off. Probably not as bad as when Betsy sat on the fire ants in the Dania apartment, but enough to make me think I was never using that toilet again.

Grant was able to grab one and pitch it out in the yard, but the other one swam down the drain. What to do? We closed the lid and waited. When we checked later, it had come back up. It tucked under the rim of the toilet. Our plan was to put a rag in the drain, then, if Grant couldn’t grab it, scoop the frog out with our big, long-handled slotted spoon,. All good, except it quickly swam back down. Closed the lid again. Debated, then decided the specie is invasive, so flushing the toilet was Plan B. Gracie was intrigued by its swimming but was no help in getting it out. I decided to use the guest bathroom.

Later, Gracie was standing on our bedroom chair, paws on the back, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t see anything. Then I noticed a tree frog clinging to the closet door. At my yelling, Grant ran in and grabbed it. He is a good man. I’ve had several tree frogs jump on me, and it gives me the willies to think about touching one on purpose. Frog was thrown out the patio door. 

Please, dear God, let that one be the second one from the toilet, and not the third in a series. And please, please, let the rains start. 

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Update: Saturday, the highest temperature I’ve seen, with no rain to cool it off. Every day, my weather app promises rain the next day, but it doesn’t come.