My Scorched Garden

If I were to come across this photo, I'd guess it a late-September mid-October shot. Never would I imagine it late June. Never. My beautiful white-flowering hydrangea--just now beginning its bloom. It will suffer through and bloom as much as it can, then begin to slowly die back as if it were October and a chill were on its way. The strain of the heat prompting it to bloom early. That's what plants do--bloom to survive. We take for granted all the work that goes into flowering. It is their desire to live--to go on--that causes the blooms.

This afternoon our county issued a heat warning and fire-burning warning to all residents via the emergency call system they have in place. I saved the message on the machine so Dr. Thyme can listen when he gets home. 

 The temperature is at 108 as I type. The forecast is calling for more of the same for the next seven days (or longer). No rain. We are all praying for rain. I know much of the entire country is under this unimaginable heat--some battling through fire on top of it all. I cannot even begin to imagine. Our hearts are with you. 

I don't recall ever having lived through heat like this in all of my Almost Fifty years--or if I had, it faded into memory somewhere. 

In the mornings, I walk, I survey. The dogs and I go out and walk--but very quickly, and under shaded spots. They are feeling this, too. Ice cubes help. Our kids hate this heat.  

The sprinkler sits idol ("idle"--you know what I meant) now. I am only hand watering at this stage--and briefly. Even this seems futile.

We happen to reside in one of the only counties within the Greater St. Louis area where it is legal to purchase fireworks. The ridiculous red and white topped tents began popping up over a week ago presaging their official day they would begin "Selling!". It sent shivers down my spine. You cannot drive down any major stretch of highway without encountering a bombardment of neon-painted directions (lest you miss your turn!). Some of the stands are separated by a mere few hundred feet. They are everywhere. My despair is palpable. Several municipalities have issued a cancellation of 4th of July fireworks. Thank god. People with common sense.

 I am scared to death when I hear fireworks going off in the evening, thinking, Really? 

This is my beautiful garden. Suffering. 

The lamb's ears stand tall. The purple cone flower. Both indignant to the heat. I try to plant as much "native" in my yard as possible. But even the native plant species are beginning to show wear. We won't know what makes it and what won't until next spring. 

My precious vegetables. The only saving grace--there are tomatoes on the vines. The plants, so far, seem to be holding up. But for how long, I can't tell. My footpath around the beds indicating the circles I walk during the mornings--during my "inspection".

And this. My favorite flower of all flower: Star Gazer Lily. They were in bloom yesterday morning. I didn't clip any to bring in and put in a vase. I thought it best to leave the pollen tips for the insects that need it to survive. And this afternoon when I looked, they had already begun to die back. One day. That's how long they lasted.