It’s official (I’m a little late — it was actually official Tuesday): we’ve suffered through the hottest June on record. So far, there have been 44 straight days with temperatures above 90 degrees; 22 of those days have been 100 or above. On top of this, we’ve received next to no rain since May. Our yard looks like straw. The plants in the pots on our driveway are dying or dead, despite Andy’s diligent watering (whenever we’re allowed; water restrictions are in effect). Several pecan trees on my bus route are wilted, and the leaves are starting to shrivel. It’s got to be terribly hot and dry when even the trees are feeling it.

Needless to say, the Bug and I don’t leave the house much. On the days when I go to work, I pick her up from day care at about 2:00, and I try to be very careful to limit our exposure to the heat and sun at the bus stop and on the walk home. It can’t be comfortable for her to be in the Baby Bjorn in 90+ degree heat — I know it’s not comfortable for me! We’ve been lucky so far. The buses are air conditioned and are usually on time; the five-minute walk from the stop to our door has been mostly shady. But still, I have been dreaming of those idyllic Midwestern summers I used to take for granted: green grass, deep shade, and cool, linden-scented nights.

For those of you coming down from more hospitable climes in a few weeks for the Bug’s baptism, I do apologize.  Pack your summeriest clothes and plenty of sunscreen; we’ll make sure there’s lots of iced tea for you.