Humidity. It’s separating the men from the boys right now.
Only last weekend I was forced to deride guests for scuttling back inside during a deck party. The key word I was trying to impress upon them was of course ‘deck’ – but this did nothing to shame them into compliance.
For that matter, neither did the three-minute lecture on how East Coast natives born and raised in this sauna bath should be ashamed to let a California girl beat them in the annual Summer Endurance sweepstakes. But by that point I was lecturing the trees – everyone had already departed stage left.
Even I can admit, however reluctantly, that the heat indexes are trying. From my desk in the morning, I peer out on miraculous shades of green under overcast skies and head outside with joy in my heart and a skip in my step only to be hit by a brick in the chest. Pleasure and pain wrapped up together like a Sartre play – and the pain is starting to trump all.
Gardeners often respond to environmental conditions without realizing it – heading in a direction over time that instinctually makes sense – even if a decision was never consciously made to move that way. That pretty much describes my journey towards tropicals and semi-tropicals as backbones of my deck and patio gardens. One day I woke up, looked around me, and realized that I’d headed south without ever leaving home.