The lantana looks lousy and refuses to bloom. The lawn, once a cooling emerald sea of grass, is pockmarked by brown spots where the sprinklers don’t quite reach and a permanent sludge of mud where it gets over watered to compensate for the soaring temperature.
The plants aren’t the only sufferers in the summer heat. The swimming pool, even if aerated by sprays and fountains, is bath water warm. The cement is blistering and results in an odd little dance of shuffling and hopping in at attempt to have the feet make as little contact as possible with the pool deck on the way to the water.
The car is always hot. A trip to the Post Office or grocery store, isn’t long enough for the air conditioner to get going full blast. Opening the door and climbing in is like getting into an incinerator. Not that I’ve actually had that experience but I do have an active imagination.
The dogs, Kate our Irish Setter and Rose, our Springer Spaniel, refuse to go outside, except for the necessary potty trips. Kate actually sits under the sprinkler when it’s on. And then of course runs through the decomposed granite and the mulch so when she comes back in the house, one knows where she’s been and where she’s going by the paw print trail.
Both girls love their walks in the morning, but now the paraphernalia required resembles that of going on safari. Besides the requisite plastic baggies, and hand sanitizer, and emergency treats, there is the water bottle for them which attaches to your belt and a water bottle for each of us. At the half way point of the walk Rose gulps down her water. Kate on the other hand refuses to drink, she wants the water poured on her nose. That’s what she does to stay cool, puts her entire head in her water dish with her nose under water. Sometimes she even blows bubbles.
Then we have our hats and they have their little hats. You know the doggy kind that are terry cloth lined and you wet down the lining before you put them on? I don’t know if the hats actually keep the puppies any cooler but they look just darling. We have our bandannas and they have theirs. Well they did, until Rose ate hers. I suppose the bandanna just didn’t make the right fashion statement.
That’s just how it is in Fountain Hills in July, no matter how early you get up or how late you go to bed, it’s just too hot.