~The Parched Earth ~

Yes, here we are in the long
tired
 Dog Days of Summer

The Brown Days as I call them.

The life has been sucked out of the gardens.

The heat is relentless.

Even a breeze does no good, as it's blowing straight out of a convection oven.

Nothing to do, but find a cool spot (even a concrete step will do) and lie down.

A tall  glass of ice tea always helps.

August has nothing to recommend it.
I'm not a fan. 
Perhaps if I had a birthday or  if there was a special day to look forward to ,
 I would feel differently.

Sometimes I feel a little sad for August, but there you have it.
 For me, August is the unloved step child of the calendar year.

The parched earth

has been particularly thirsty this year
everything is dry, dusty .....and tired

The beautiful fields of corn in an earlier post
have shriveled up and all but blown away.

We are in the midst of a severe drought, and the agriculture in our area has suffered much.

Sadly, this will all be noticeable at the grocery store in the near future.

Smaller ponds have not been able to survive.

This pond is one of the most beautiful and picturesque in our area. But as you can see the draught has taken it's toll here.  The water level is usually up to the dock and there is lots of swimming and fishing going on during the summer months.
It's sad to see it like this.

A lovely creek bed, now only a walking trail.

What was fun in May;

the tending of new plants, the watering, the weeding, the nurturing tender young sprouts

has become a tedious chore in August. The plants once full of  lusty youth have become straggling and pale. They have given their all, and even if there's a tiny bit of life left in them, they still just look sad. So I become , what my son has dubbed me over the years:
 Dr. Jack Kavorkian!!!

I start pulling up plants and tossing them out and emptying pots and planters as if getting rid of the evidence will change the facts.



Not much left to my window box at the moment.
And these little guys know their days are numbered as well.  Sorry.

My Crepe Myrtles at the end of the drive-way 
are still trying to bloom their little hearts out,
 especially since they heard about my latest killing spree.

As I am set to publish this post, I can say we have blessedly had a splash of rain and the temps scaled back  just a enough in the last couple of days, to give one hope. 
A welcome reprieve.

As August thankfully begins to fade
 I turn my cool thoughts to September.

For Autumn is my muse.