It is yet another day in what I have decided to call the Carolina inferno. The temperature hovers around 100 degrees but feels like double that. Ten minutes outside and I've dropped two pounds in water weight and brain matter. The heat saps my energy, my enthusiasm, my ability to hold a train of thought. I've become a rabid fan of air conditioning. A repair truck in front of a neighbor's house makes me want to bring casseroles and ice cream to help them through the tragedy until their unit is functioning again.
This should not take me by surprise. I moved to the South. What was I expecting? This is the trade-off, right? When my former neighbors are struggling with grey skies and icy roads, I'll be counting camellias. When they measure their time outside in frozen body parts, I'll be taking the dog for a long evening walk. It is worth it..right?
June was unseasonably warm, my new neighbors all nod. Record-setting says the local paper. I should feel comforted. I just feel hot. "It's never this bad," says the local news talking head.
Looking for a silver lining, I went out and bought tropical plants. Lush canna lilys, banana leaves with wide leaves. I planted them in the bright sunlight, squinting happily at the riot of color. Two days later, the plants are wilting. These are tropical plants, bred to survive African hot seasons and Carolina is killing them. I hook up hoses, soakers, sprinklers in an effort to funnel water to the limp stems. The water droplets sizzle and burn, leaving marks on those wide banana leaves.
Between the AC and the watering, I've become my own global resource black hole. Global warming is more than an intellectual concept. Its my new front lawn.
I have realized that I cannot beat this heat. I can only relax and repeat my new mantra.. Winter is coming. Winter is coming. Winter is coming.
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