Let's talk about the weather...

Today's paper joyfully announced that we just hit our 66th day in a row of triple digit temperatures. (Add another 6 to that number and you will discover where I think that little nugget of news comes from.) Seriously: every day the weathermen announces the new total like it is a cause for celebration. "If we can make it to 70 days in a row of triple digit temperatures, we will beat the record set in 1929" or some former year when I'm not even sure thermometers were even reliable.  Where is the fun in that record?

The first day of school, I had recess scheduled for 1:00 p.m. My little first grade charges leaned against trees and wilted before my eyes. I rescheduled for recess right after lunch. (And did I mention that I have drawn the first lunch of the day at my school? We eat promptly at 10:30 a.m. By the time I am driving home in the afternoon, grouchy from the heat, I could eat the leather off of my shoes. But I digress.)

The weatherman announced today that there is a chance we may have mid-90 degree temperatures over the weekend. Do you know what he called that? A coldfront. (Cue laughter from my reader in Alberta, Canada, where a coldfront is really cold.)

And then there was this little surprise storm that blew through last night with rain. (Prompting most of us in this drought-stricken part of Texas to question what the wet stuff falling from the sky was.) Guess the weatherman missed the prediction for precipitation while he was wringing his hands with glee over triple digit after triple digit. 

That quick storm did a lot of damage in my neighborhood. Many trees were snapped in half throughout the neighborhood. I lost my internet connection when the electricity surged, so I spent a lot of time of the phone today with a cable tech with limited understandable English. He also used words like "modem" and "router" as he talked me through a self-repair. D had always taken care of those kinds of repairs, and I kept feeling tears starting to surge as I tried to follow tricky instructions in tricky English. Thankfully, I kept the tears at bay, and was able to follow directions to restore my internet. Just as I hung up with the tech, I glanced in the backyard and saw D's pine tree laying sideways, caught in another tree.

Pine trees are not native to our area, but D was on a mission to keep this tree thriving. He bought fertilizer stakes and special mulch, and valiantly tried to keep the pine alive. When he was no longer able to work in the yard, I would water the tree and pray for both it and D. I think I was engaging in some wishful thinking: if I could keep this tree thriving, D would be just fine. Silly, I know. And now his tree became a victim to the weather in one short burst of a storm. I know I will have to find someone to cut it and haul it away, and I feel the tears try to surge again. Why would such a small chore make me feel so overwhelmed? I think I am just tired of loss in this season of my life. That tree took years and years to grow, and will not be easily replaced. In fact, I don't think it can or will be replaced. Not by me, anyway.

I am so ready for autumn. And for a cool breeze to blow across my soul.