This winter when it was below zero for seemingly days on end, I promised myself - I swore - that I would not complain about the heat this summer. I was so tired of wearing my green winter jacket and being slapped in the face by the icey wind every time I walked out the door, that I was sure that I would welcome whatever warmth Mother Nature threw my way.
It is not yet summer and I have already complained about the heat. Several times in fact. I hate to be sweaty and sticky, I hate not being able to cuddle up under a quilt at night. I try to remember how much I hated smashing the ice in the animal's water every morning and night. I hate that more than anything. But right now, sweating like a pig with a fan blowing on me which I know will make my neck hurt and my head ache by the time I wake up in the morning, I would gladly smash the ice in the goats' water trough.
Apparently I am high-maintenance. Give me low 70's, blue skies, a light breeze and I am happy. Really I am. I love to have all of the windows open so that I can hear my windchimes at the front of the house and the gurgling creek at the back of the house. I am happy to sit out on my bench underneath the blooming lilac bush - reading a book, watching the goats and chickens.
Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime I'll take advantage of the heat and make some bread.