It’s a sight to strike fear in my heart.
October 16th and the temperature hit 30°C (86°F) and humidity is 33%.
Thirty degrees is supposed to be a height –of-summer oddity. It’s the day you drop everything and head to the beach, because there are only a handful of days this warm in a summer.
Except that it’s the middle of spring.
And this happened last year.
And the year before.
And it heralds a third year of drought for us.
A third year of deciding which plants will be watered (and survive), and which ones will not (and probably die).
It will be a third year of expensive hay that has to be brought in for the goats, because the grass will brown off in November.
A third year in which the vegetable seedlings grow too fast too early, then struggle to set fruit in the dry heat.
Just thinking about it makes me grim.
But I suppose it also means a summer of incredible hot days at the beach. A summer in which I don’t need a wetsuit to enjoy the ocean. A summer of ice cream and swimming.
I enjoy these things. I really do. It’s a good thing they come along with drought. If I go to the beach, I can ignore the shrivelling garden at home…sort of.

Shower—The bucket was also our shower in Panama. We would fill it with water and haul it out to our “shower” enclosure. Half a coconut shell made a scoop for pouring out the water for washing.






