Presence, Security

Dog Days of Summer

July 23, 2022

It’s hot. The floor is the coolest place in the house. This is where Biscuit is spending most of his time these days.

My meat thermometer says that it is 87 degrees in the house this evening. Apparently, one of the most useful things about having a handy magnetic meat thermometer that hangs on the refrigerator is being able to check the temperature: not of meat but of the inside. In the winter, I could say, “Aack! It’s 40 degrees in the kitchen!” and complain about it here. Sure wish we could bottle some of that chilliness and save it for days like today.

It’s nearly the time of day when the outside temperature starts to possibly feel slightly cooler than the inside. Which means that it is time to open the windows. At least the ones at the front of the house. Our house faces directly east (perhaps not the best planning), which means that in the summer, we get full morning sun and then, a little later, full afternoon sun. This ensures that everything is thoroughly toasted by the time the sun finally disappears.

We don’t have air conditioning.

It surprises everyone when I tell them this. It’s not that unusual for our mountain climate, though. Lots of houses up here didn’t come with air conditioning, because when they were built, it was not this hot. And when it was hot for a few days in the summer, you could always count on it cooling down at night. So you would spend the day at the community pool, and in the evening you just had to open the windows, let in the cool Delta breeze, and all would be right with the world again. I’m used to not having air conditioning; the house where I grew up didn’t have it either. It was a two story house, so the upstairs would get warm, but every evening my Mom would tell me to “go upstairs and open the windows,” and I would, and the breeze would start up, and life would be good.

The problem lately has been that the nighttime lows here are not that low anymore. They’ve been in the 70s the last few nights.  “Normal” is 60. That’s a huge difference. We don’t seem to be getting “normal” low temperatures anymore, at least not in the summer.

Continue Reading…

Presence, Security

Lost and Found

July 16, 2022

A camping dispatch, from MacKerricher State Park, just north of Fort Bragg, CA

(One of my favorite places on the planet)

Wednesday morning. Last day of our three night trip. Heading home soon, after packing up camp and a final walk on the boardwalk, to say goodbye to the seals and the pelicans.

Seals on rocks at MacKerricher. A photo taken from a bit of a distance and made bigger. But still! Seals!

Nearly 8:00 am now, and I am sitting in the car, because everything outside is wet. It did not rain (unfortunately), but still, everything is wet. The table. The kitchen towels and rags hung out to dry. The cast iron pan. The tablecloth. The chairs.

We didn’t have much luck starting a fire last night. We did not have much luck any night, actually. Perhaps the wood we bought from the lady in the pickup truck on the side of the road just out of town was damp. Perhaps we are not the best fire makers. Anyway. All was not lost, because we were able to get enough of a fire going last night to roast marshmallows for a few minutes. We were lucky that my neighbor gave me half a watermelon before we left, and it came in two very sturdy Whole Foods paper sacks that we brought along. Good thing we had those bags. They were the only thing that enabled us to roast marshmallows for a few minutes.

(Also? I think campfires are a little overrated. No matter where I sit, I get smoke in my face. And when you get home, if you’ve had several nights of roaring fires, everything smells like smoke and has to be washed with at least one and occasionally two extra rinses. So much laundry! Without the campfires? It’s not as overwhelming.)

Anyway. At 9:00 pm, it’s close to bedtime at home, so after a long day outside, with some sun one day and not so much sun the other, but sunburns all the same, we were OK with heading to the tent and turning off the flashlights.

But here is something unbelievable.

I just found my Starbucks cup.

(If you missed my weekly Sunday letter where I tell the story of my angst over losing the Starbucks cup in great detail, drop me a note at robin@ordinaryholy.com and I will be happy to forward it to you. Also, why not sign up for my Sunday letter list? More communication! More connection.)

Somehow, that cup was in the camping cupboard.

I do not know how that was even possible.

Because I looked there, ever so closely. Several times!

So much unnecessary angst about that.

My angst was about the cup, and (as you probably figured) also not about the cup. Continue Reading…