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The hollyhocks at "South Forks" (where Scott was raised) stand about 9 feet high.

It was a day off, if you don't count dishes, laundry, and hanging out with my ex-husband and kids for the afternoon and supper. Relaxing and pleasant, but so frigging muggy and hot, gad! I used to love the heat, but now ... give me a temperate climate, any day. Dust started blowing down Main Street as we sat in the café and it was raining lightly by the time we ran for the vehicle. I don't know whether the farmers do — probably not if they're in the middle of baling — but I welcome the moisture and coolness.

Yesterday afternoon I picked a gallon of chokecherries for an acquaintance. It was feverishly humid, as it's been all week, so I wasn't eager to go out to the trees along a fenceline. However, once you're back in the shady bush, it's really quite lovely and I enjoyed every moment of it. There were no insects out and around; Scott was baling in the field nearby; after an hour or two we both stopped our activities and had a cold beer on the dark side of a big round bale before I headed for home.

Tomorrow, if it doesn't rain much more, I'll be slaving in the hot sun with Construction Man.