The Daily: 3 July 2024

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The Dog Days begin today. This is when Sol and Sirius shine together all day long, creating blast-furnace heat. Or maybe that’s just carbon… Either way, it is the hottest time of the year in northern climes. My mother keeps calling to tell me the latest and ever-rising record temperatures she is experiencing in Indiana. My sister is in Phoenix… I just can’t imagine the heat she is describing. In my old home of Albuquerque, the 2024 monsoon season began early, in the middle of June, but it also seems to be weakening already. The outlook for rain is dwindling with each day’s forecast. It probably won’t be as bad as last year — which landed in the top ten of driest monsoon seasons on record — but it won’t be as wet as it was before the growing season began. Meanwhile temperatures are soaring. Not quite Phoenix, but much hotter than what counts as recent normal in Albuquerque, 50-60% warmer, according to NOAA. So will there be a growing season?

There are also issues with water treaties between New Mexico and Texas. Recently, the US Supreme Court (a notable body of water experts… not…) rejected a modification of the Rio Grande Compact made between the two states that would allow New Mexico to pump groundwater for irrigation at a lower level than they have been but at a high enough level to sustain agriculture. The Supreme Court apparently disagreed, saying the compromise would leave the US “up the river without a paddle” (whatever that means…). With this decision in limbo, it is unclear whether New Mexican farmers can draw any water from their field wells. Usually, groundwater recharges surface water, but along the Rio Grande, which flows over a complex substrate of impermeable basalt and large piles of highly porous glacial melt debris, water generally flows away from the river and into the groundwater. This means that water pumped from a well along the river valley is taking water from the Rio. So New Mexico’s chile farmers, among others along the southern reaches of the Rio Grande, are worried about a triple threat of extreme temperatures, low precipitation and a possible moratorium on irrigation.

In any case, it is hot, ranging from uncomfortable to outright dangerous. There will, no doubt, be repeat successes in frying eggs on hot pavement in these Dog Days. So getting out of the heat might be a health imperative in many places this summer. One of the best ways to get out of the heat is going where there is air conditioning. In Albuquerque, land of the swamp cooler — ahem… evaporative cooling, which only shaves about 10°F off ambient air temperature while adding high levels of humidity (hence swamp) — the best places to get out of the heat are those that require strict climate controls to protect their collections — namely museums and libraries.

July is the best month to go connect with your culture. Art, history, music, science, boating, broadcasting… (truly). There are so many museums to explore and no lack of blessedly cool air in which to do that exploring. If you’re AC-averse (as I am) and would prefer to bounce back and forth between indoors and out, there are living history museums that usually have at least one building with the strict climate control necessary to preserve artifacts, but are otherwise open to the elements. Los Golondrinas is my favorite example because in addition to the high ceilings and thick adobe walls on all the buildings, there is deep cottonwood shade everywhere. So even the buildings without AC are cool. But this is just one of many places you could explore. I am sure there is a fascinating museum near you. I am also pretty sure it will have air conditioning…

Meanwhile, here in Vermont, we haven’t got the heat. But we have got rain. It’s looking like we might be in for a repeat of 2023, though with a side-helping of sheer violence. We went from abnormally dry in the early growing season to abnormally high streamflow conditions in much of central Vermont today (data maps). In just a few weeks, I have stopped hauling water across the street and started fretting about flooding in the basement and garage. In the past couple weeks we’ve had several rounds of thunderstorms that just parked over Vermont, pouring buckets, but also hurling all sorts of uncommon weather at us. So far, we’ve had tornados (yes, plural), hailstones up to an inch in diameter, 60 mph wind gusts, and lightning that can carry on for hours at a time — to where you almost become inured to it. This is all very strange weather for Vermont. But I suppose that is where we are now… permanent strange…

All the rain has made for a bumper crop of swollen black raspberries. I suspect my Fourth of July will be spent trying to deal with the excess (along with weed-pulling). I am not sure I even want to eat them… they are big and abundant, but they are largely flavorless because there hasn’t been enough sun to sweeten them. So on top of coping with bewildering weather, I am a bit grumpy with the garden…

Just can’t win out there… Should go find a museum…

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Wednesday Word

for 3 July 2024

ripe

If you choose to contemplate the ripening of things, you can respond in the comments below or go visit the All Poetry contest for July. Your response can be anything made from words. I love poetry, but anything can be poetic and you needn’t even be limited to poetics. An observation, a story, a thought. Might even be an image — however, I am not a visual person, so it has to work harder to convey meaning. In the spirit of word prompts, it’s best if you use the word; but I’m not even a stickler about that. Especially if you can convey the meaning without ever touching the word.

Even if you don’t choose to scribble, at least I’ve made you think about… ripeness.

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©Elizabeth Anker 2024