summer time ennui: living with the heat ain't easy

or how to be gentle and grateful when the world is weary

male House Finch getting ready for a bit of refreshment. july 16, 2024. photo by anne richardson

dear sojourners,

the herbs and flowers in my pots on my deck look weary. burnt from long days of Sun exposure. the last two, three weeks our temperatures have breached at least 90º most days, with a succession of days tipping over 100º. when the high is predicted for 89º, i do mental gymnastics to trick myself into thinking it is “cool” out. and 85º, well, i’m almost donning a wool jacket.

with little shade to protect my tiny “garden,” daily watering is the best i can do. the shallow birdbath evaporates by mid-afternoon, though the Wasps find remnants of water to sip. i don’t like Wasps and consider buying one of those plastic, yellow, cylindrical traps, but then it is too hot to sit outside and eat (where they would aggressively pester me), so for now i let them be, telling myself “Wasps must have a purpose on this planet,” and pat myself on the back for being so inclusive. but i still don’t like them and given the chance will deny all arguments for their usefulness and vote to exterminate. so much for inclusiveness.

at least the deeper birdbath stays viable all day long and provides refreshment for the House Finches that are frequent visitors. when two males arrive at the same time they stare at each other, hop up and down on the rim, refuse to share, and eventually both fly away, neither getting a drink. when two females arrive, they share. make of that what you will.

there has been no rain for the past two-and-a-half weeks. not even a sweat-soaked bead from a wayward cloud. before that rain was rare as Spring turned into Summer. the rain that came late June: it was in a humidity soaked afternoon where Clouds gathered up our collective ennui and dumped it back on us.

the closest Creeks are shrinking to dribbles. no Rain is forecast anytime soon. we’ve had extended dry periods in past summers, but the “below average rainfall” this Winter and Spring leaves little reserves. House Finches are not the only visitors to my birdbaths. Black-capped Chickadees and Dark-eyed Juncos stop by. the occasional Crow. and yes, those damn Wasps take deep sips from that Water source, too. we are all thirsty for something.

when i was a kid i couldn’t wait for Summer. or is that a mis-remembering? not having any girl neighbors close by, or even boys close to my age, i spent a lot of time with my books, reading in my “secret” space between two old Cedars at the top of our ragged yard. when your father buys an equally ragged orchard, his dream to escape smog-filled skies of Los Angeles, the yard is the last thing to get tended. the dandelions grew no matter the amount of rainfall while the grass browned and crisped under the Sun. scratchy on bare legs.

dust would coat everything as cars, trucks, and tractors drove by the unnamed gravel road that bordered one length of our property. i couldn’t wait until i was old enough (12) to ride my bike or catch the beat-up picking bus to the local berry farms and pick Strawberries, Blackberries, Marionberries. i ate a fair share of dust-covered, insecticide-sprayed berries, drank too little water, and wore no sunscreen, but i was with friends and i made some pocket money. i know there were hot hot days then too. hot stretches without rain where the irrigation pipes would pump jets of water over crops as if those sources would last forever. if i felt the heat was “too much,” i could choose to stay home. the “migrant” workers had no choice. rotating from harvest-to-harvest was their livelihood. but i had no concept of such things back then

the farmhouse and those Cedars from my childhood.

look up a photo of Thai Basil and you will see leaves more slender than the Sweet Basil used for pesto. Usually a spirited green leaf with purple stems, the Thai Basil on my deck has delicate blossoms the color of orchids that i swear have been the same height since i planted it two months ago. the leaves sprouting from the stems look like underfunded crowdsourcing. too small to add to a recipe. i allow that this season it will be a pollinator. the Cilantro and Flat Leaf Parsley are the opposite of robust—more comb-over than lush. no salsa in their future. and my attempt at Dill this year…a few spindly stalks.

i thought my Sweet Basil was going to pull through as i was able to offer it some protection, but i was either over zealous in my watering in trying to save it or it got overheated, because the full-fleshed foresty green leaves have dulled and drooped. it is on palliative care. with the highs predicted to hover in the high 80’s and even bounce back to the mid-90’s the rest of the week, i’m not sure my Basil will pull through. but there is nothing like a handful of sweet, peppery Basil added to a dish, so i’ll hold out hope.

at least my hardy Rosemary, going on three, four years old, is staying the course. and Sage is being, well, sage in its navigating the heat as is the Oregano, Thyme, and Tarragon. so all is not lost. and my funky Geranium that i wintered over from last year. brought inside when Winter froze us and tumbled trees all around, is a handful of magenta blooms on a thick woody stalk. maybe not a state fair winner, but has attitude.

Sad Sweet Basil, wise Sage, weary Thai Basil

like many of these plants on my deck, i grow weary from the days of heat. i close the windows and the drapes against the high-in-the-sky pulsing orb once the cooler night air begins swapping out for hot in my abode. the portable air conditioning unit i am grateful to have maintains comfortable conditions in my main living area the first few days of a heat blast, but if the nights don’t cool, the heat accumulates over time. i find it difficult to sleep. i become restless. my creativity caves. ennui is my default. i am beginning to crave Winter.

i relate to this quote from Summer Solstice by Nina Maclaughlin:

“How easy it is for me to get warm and stay warm in winter. How sharp and alive my mind feels in the cold. The expansiveness, the aliveness, the sinking into the meat of existence that happens when the days get dark in the afternoons. To see bare skeleton trees against the purple-blue gloam in November? Best. Give it to me all year. Summer comes and it’s as though the maze ridges on the surface of my brain melt and I am left with a smoothed-out mostly useless mass of gray-pink meat-matter underneath my skull. Heat-stunned, dull, and damp with sweat or about to be. In cold, one can always put on more clothes. In thick heat, there’s only so naked we can get.”

doing what experts suggest to keep my abode “cool” during a heat wave (closing drapes and windows as soon as it heats up outside, fans on at night to bring in cool air) leaves me feeling entombed. i am not a claustrophobic person, but being closed in when light is seeping beneath windows, is like splinters of glass pricking my eyes. heat is oppressive.

i know each season where i live is necessary for the beauty this region is known for. the luscious bounty available at the Farmers’ Market i walk to Sunday mornings. still, Summer and i are not on the best of terms. sorry if i sound cranky.

on mornings i walk, i set off early before the heat ramps up. walking sustains me and i need to get out of my tomb. this new neighborhood has bends and twists in the roads with repeating street names that make it easy to get confused for the uninitiated. a healthy share of steep hills, “trails” that veer from paved streets through mini-forests, and several parks are part of the landscape. the neighborhood is a mix of old and new construction. several gardens are signed: “bird habitat certification in process,” “certified backyard habitat,” or “pollinator friendly.” there is also residue from the January storm: fallen trees left to return to the Earth as nurse logs, blue tarps still protecting gaping holes in roof tops. was it only six months ago we were in a deep freeze?

on Saturday i met a new park that beyond having playground equipment and ball fields, had a nature restoration area. Thistles and Queen Anne’s Lace seemed un-phased by the heatwave, or perhaps the small trickle of a Creek was still sustaining the preserve. Oak, Maple, Fir, Cedar, and Ash ranged from young to wise. i miss the intimacy i had with the trees in my old neighborhood. the “Sister” Maples. the Douglas Firs that stood watch over my apartment and on the path i walked. i have been slow to meet me new neighbors.

bounty of Thistlesis

one of two of the Dogwoods outside my new abode is looking distressed from the heat. leaves sagging, browning on the edges. the other Dogwood seems to be fairing better. this Dogwood offers the Hydrangea in front of my abode enough shade to keep most of the blooms from sunburning, the periwinkle clustered pompoms are composed of small blossoms…a joyous Summer shrub. just after i moved in last November, the gardener was cutting the dying blooms off. i asked for a bunch and they still sit, deep purple in their dried-died state, on my dresser.

over the long holiday (in the States) weekend, i visited family on the “other side” of the Cascade Range, the High Desert part of the region. dryer and higher, the flora and fauna varies from the west side where i live. the forested areas are less dense. there are more Junipers and Ponderosa Pines spread out like a fanned hands than Douglas Firs clustered together. there are more ranches than orchards and wineries. drought conditions have been more prevalent over the years in an area that already received scant rainfall. wildfires, though now a concern throughout our region, are already “popping up” earlier and earlier on the calendar. and it is a stunning landscape with the Painted Hills, Smith Rock, and Lava River Cave, for example, showcasing geologic shifts reflecting how land is formed over time. a reminder how short my time on Earth is. it one of my favorite places to visit.

witnessing Water cascading over hidden Rocks at Tumalo Falls reminded me that even in the midst of drought, the cycle of Winter Snow and Spring thaw continues to feed Tumalo Creek. Summer heat and lack of rainfall may slow the flow sooner than in previous years, but it was powerful when we were there.

watching Water carve through Canyons, gliding over Rocks fascinates me. the slowness of Time to alter/create beyond my “seeing.” there are Trees that have tumbled into the flow, only to remain in a semi-permanent state. for me it is mystery, though science, too, has a say in sorting the “how’s.”

as we walked the trail, small clouds of dust stirred by our feet rose in the air. the air was dry. it got hotter. the sound of the Falls and the impatient Creek fell away. a stray spark from lightening or fireworks (and yes, they are illegal, but…) would set the whole area ablaze. you hope at least the humans would practice common sense.

Painted Hill, May 2021. Blue Basin, May 2021, Tumalo Falls, July 2024

today the House Finches continue to stop by for sips. the Wasps, too. i have gratitude alongside the ennui. i am aware how much bounty i have. and the House Finches, they bring me Joy with their comings and goings. the Wasps, not so much.

are you weary? feeling a bit of ennui? maybe being entombed in a quiet, uneventful space sounds delightful, or at least a respite. come over and i’ll offer you a cuppa tea. and as i allow my own ennui brought on by the heat (or, perhaps a smidge of overwhelm and need to filter out the barrage of “news,”) i choose to be gentle and tender with my own heart. can you be that with your own, please?

or maybe you love Summer. the long days. the hot. the Sun. maybe you are already noticing the shorter days and bemoaning the coming of Autumn. what are these shifting seasons like for you? and is it different as you’ve aged? or what “season” of life you are in? if you like, i’d be curious to know.

and a bit of fun on the horizon. yes, i need some fun. on Saturday i will be doing the Naked Goddess Swim. gliding my Goddess body in the Willamette River after dark with other Goddesses. it will be cold water. River water. on-the-way-to Ocean water. perhaps i will let my ennui flow downstream to the Pacific.

and so, yes, a bit cranky today. and also appreciative. appreciative of your reading, subscribing (please, if you please). once the heat fog clears from my “mostly useless mass of gray-pink meat-matter underneath my skull,” i’ll be back with something less ennui-ish. more in tune with the world-ish.

as always, in gratitude,

anne

bonus photo: Summer kid me, just shy of 7 years old