A Record Breaker

Today we tie 1925 as having the most 100+ degree days in a calendar year. We are poised to blow that record out of the water.
The sky most days is a relentless, empty, terrifying shade of blue. What animals that have survived the drought thus far act strangely. Squirrels drape themselves along tree branches like miniature fur rugs, too beaten down by the heat to run from our barking terrier. Huge wolf spiders show up in our kitchen, at our entry way, in broad daylight, given up on their own safety and smacked to the hereafter with my shoe.

I hear there is in rain in heaven.

The tomato plants quit early this year. The temperatures stopped dropping down enough at night for them to continue to produce.


This drought and unyielding heat bring to the forefront of my mind how we are just animals too. Fortunate animals that have figured out air conditioning and water treatment facilities and indoor playgrounds, but tied to the rhythms and whims of nature nonetheless. I find myself thinking that everything would be ok, all of my problems would be solved if it would just rain.


The memory of water stains the dehydrated gutters as the heat, once an abstraction but now a living thing, shimmers off the pavement. I feel a little desperate in the afternoons. You can burn yourself getting into your car. Many people have died from heat exposure. Things are so much worse in Africa. I think about those people a lot these days.

I feel a little desperate when I see the weather forecast on the news at night. I keep thinking, "Surely, next week will bring relief." But it never does. How long can this go on?

There is an event tonight at the ballpark to have the largest rain dance in Guiness book history. I sense God laughing.