Whoa, it is hot and dry here in the Truckee Meadows. The leaves on our tomato plants get droopy unless David takes care in watering them daily, or more often. But the fruit on the vine blushes, then reddens—kissed by the high desert sunshine. Sagging, dried out day lilies need constant deadheading and even the intrepid evening primrose drops its lovely pink blooms. I’ve missed the brilliant orange flashes of orioles, which have migrated to cooler climes. They came morning and evening to drink of the nectar we provide—bees and even a few wasps have moved in as their replacement.
Evening breeze offers relief and nighttime temperatures plummet. We sleep with open windows, disturbed only by the wail of passing trains on the other side of the Truckee. Up early to walk the dogs and do garden chores before the heat descends.
Last week I made my way up the winding road to the cool of the lake and made a new friend.
Tahoe waits on high.
Winding roads give way to blue.
She hides her secrets.
(Note: the average water temperature of Lake Tahoe about 68 degrees F at the surface, 39 degrees deeper. Too often people will be careless, not wear life jackets and quickly die of hypothermia. This happened last month when a UNR football player died in a jet ski incident. They searched for days but were unable to find his body.)
Written for Toni’s prompt for Monday Haibun—Heat—at dVerse Poet’s Pub. Please join us.