Wicked Heat

I'm watering chickens and the yard. So far, both are holding their own. The heat is bone dry and the two misters attached to fans in the patio are working well, close to 110 in the shade, it is only 96 under the patio roof. When the fan comes by, blowing the fine spray from the misters, it feels like you're at the ocean, except as soon as the fan rotates, then it dries quickly--very quickly. Yet, for a moment, there is a cool, slightly damp feel as it passes.

Millie is in her element. She loves the heat, cheap fur coat on and all, that girl lays herself out and catnaps to her heart's content in the patio, both of us on the hammock.

Every morning, Millie lays against the length of my bare back, I can feel her soft fur and warm presence in the early morning hours before I wake. Once I get the paper, we settle in the patio for a read with coffee. Millie, however, wants some play time and the paper is as good to get my attention as anything else. She prefers to sit on the front page, So I choose another section to start with and when I want to read what she is toying with, I have to play. Or, scratch her ears and under her chin.

At the end of next month is two weeks at the beach. A place to forget the furnace type heat that can and does boil up here in the San Fernando Valley. But Millie likes the hot days and that makes it okay by me.