Walking into the Mouth of a Dog

 Not only is it sweltering at nearly 100 degrees Celsius these days, but the humidity is just about unbearable.  As people say, it is like walking into the mouth of a dog.  It's like being covered in a heavy wet blanket you can't shirk.
On the good side, growing things flourish.  Like the lemons on my tree, and the cucumbers I grow along driveway out back.

 The wisteria, ivy, and bamboo have taken over this geodesic climbing dome.  Years ago when the school playground deemed this equipment too dangerous, we moved it piece by piece to our backyard.

Now it has literally become a jungle gym.

 Here it is from underneath.

This is also that time of year when the squirrels feast on little seeds along the base of the pine cones.  The yard is littered with sharp little pine cone bits and stripped cones.  Going around barefoot can be painful.

A volunteer tomato plant grows alongside a container plant.

And the barefoot garden guy's garden seems to be overtaking his front porch.  I pass him out there early some mornings.  He nods a little hello and sucks at his cig.






The mosquitoes are intolerable.

Days like these make me wonder about the people who ever came and settled here long ago.  Sure, they had plenty to eat because things were easy to grow, but the bugs and humidity are just too much.  I got hand it to those people, they were tenacious.  I'm sure to them I am a big whining wuss.