July 17 2009

I worked this morning clearing weeds, spraying wasps nests, raking, moving lumber and old railroad ties. I wanted to get up early so I could beat the heat of the day but the headache I woke with made me close my eyes and pray for rest. I got it, but had to work in the heat as payment. I felt lethargic as I worked. My mind was active enough, ordering the task to maximum efficency, but my muscles would not follow. I thought, "I'm not even thirty, what's with this exhaustion?" and I groped for what may have changed since I could work in this environment. Then I thought, "When was I ever able to work in this environment?"

I grew up in the midwest with the humidity--sweltering days with heat indexes that would make you dig a hole in the heat just to sit in the shade of the wet, cool earth once it was deep enough. I never had to work in thin atmosphere and desert dryness. The sun pierces with needles, and even dry shade is cooler than standing in the sun. I don't even know I'm sweating, the moisture evaporates so quickly. My skin burns underneath my bluejeans and t-shirt--even covering myself is insufficient.

I do not deal with this heat well. It possesses a quality far surpassing that of the hell we joke about in St. Louis. Furthermore, I see people recreating in this heat; people hike and bike the desert trails--it actually draws people to this area. It's not for me. I am more seriously thinking about changing my sleep schedule to 10am to 6pm and getting work done in the dead of night, where it's a breezy 70.



This picture: 4:30 in the afternoon. Actually 2 degrees cooler than when we passed the intersection a half-hour earlier.

Tomorrow's noun of the day: method