At 6:30 AM, the sky is still dark. I keep the outside awning lights on so that Tango can roam around. He is afraid of the dark around here. Too many turkeys and deer that spook him. I just sit inside, with the door open. Cool, cool air wanders in. No breeze yet to push the air in, yet the coolness floats in and envelopes my arms, legs, hair. I breathe in the coolness. I treasure these moments. No AC or fans. Quiet coolness in the darkness.

Yesterday I did physical work outside all day. Loppering branches, trimming shrubs, clearing out a few “flower” beds. A wealthy adjacent landowner donated their land and house to Ordway-Swisher. The property (a few acres) sat untended for a year, and my job is to tame the vegetation and make the place look inviting for future visitors. A perfect job for me-rehabbing a weedy place and turning it into something attractive. I love the challenge, I love the outdoor work.

Heat and humidity, though. I take a break every hour, sit on my six-wheeler. I have a five-gallon jug filled with water and ice. I drink large amounts and then flip my head over and douse it with the icy water. I soak my bandana and tie up my hair again. I look like I am ready to scare little kids for Halloween. At lunch I zoom back to my camper, take a shower and put on clean clothes. Back to work. Later in the day, I take a longer break. I say to my stiff and achy self, “I will do this. I will not give up” even though part of me wants to flee to the beach and end this madness.

I come home and wash my two field outfits in the tub so that I have something to wear the next day, today. Morning now. So cool.  By now some light breaks into my forest, but the cool lingers. I scratch my arm for a moment and notice a firm muscle. Time to get ready and head out.