Not only did I think about my friends in their comfortable homes in town, AC blasting, I started looking for condos to buy. Something without a yard. Something with a pool. I found the perfect place, but John wouldn’t even consider it.
Of course, not having done any research on the property, it’s possible we couldn’t take our dogs. Certainly not the cows, horses and chickens. Which is, I suppose, the point of living in a condo.
Yesterday was the first time in 30 years (I can’t believe I’m old enough to have done something for 30 years) that I had to get off the tractor and cool down. I took an hour and a half long break that included a light lunch, cool shower, and a nap.
Not only was the heat index at 116, but the hay I was mowing was ringed by trees. There wasn’t a stitch of air moving through that field. Every time I headed north I could feel the heat from the hood of the tractor pulsating over me. There were no hawks, no coyotes, nothing moving, except me and the tractor, and eventually, not even that.
After my break I felt rehydrated and ready to go again, though John had to finish the field when he got home.
Waiting for Thoreau 
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