A Scorcher

I like bitter cold better than intense heat. When I am cold I can dress more warmly, put another log on the fire, and eat hearty soul and body warming food. And I can stay indoors. When it is hot I can almost not drag my weary bones around to do what must be done. Decency dictates a limit to the number of clothes I can remove, and I don't want to use the oven even to bake bread.

Also once the weather gets hot, my hermitage is no longer as secluded. I have to share my private road. And the dogs do not understand. All winter they have been letting me know if anything untoward has been happening. They don't go off the property unless I am with them but they are aware of any movement in the empty houses.

Because I have Remi this very hot weekend, and because my cottage neighbours are on the lake, I can't even take Kenya and just swim my troubles away. Remi is a sociable dog and he will visit the neighbours, and then I will have to worry about whether he is bothering them.

Kenya gets upset if she thinks their house might be being burgled, but she goes right home if they tell her to, and her visits are more in the nature of duty calls than social visits, so she would rather play with me and a stick than visit anyone else.

And, since they still need exercise, it means I must take more frequent walks ... and endure the heat, humidity and bugs.

I will be glad when the neighbours leave and/or Remi goes home. Then Kenya and I can return to our normal patterns of going out when we want to, swimming when it is hot, and generally doing as we please.

So far today I have taken the dogs for a long walk, made bread, helped Rowboat Flo move some things up the hill for a garage sale, and followed a fail proof recipe for mayonnaise which refused to emulsify, and I am worn out. And I still have to cut up and cook the batch of rhubarb Flo gave me yesterday, and walk the dogs at least once more.

But I may just go for a swim alone and take a nap first. It's that kind of day.