Hot temperatures, in the upper 90s into the 100s, are finally here.
This meant rolling out of bed before the early sun's rays start heating the ground to water the garden, especially the tomatoes.
From last year's failure I learned not to water every day, despite the spidering cracks in the dry clay soil, or I would be rewarded with lots of pretty yellow flowers - but no fruit. Now, four days have passed and although their parched leaves slightly curl a larger number of green tomatoes hang in varying sizes from nine bushes.
Out I staggered in the cool blue hued backyard to pick up the hose. My attention to the project keeps my eyes cast downward.
Suddenly, something
plucked at my upper arm.
"What the...?"
There swinging contently in the
hanging basket, used solely for birdseed. was Braveheart, the cat.
It appeared she had changed the old adage of the "early bird and the worm" to a timely feline with a sense of balance gets not only fed, but also to witness her human's wild gestures of fright and surprise upon being touched.
Good thing I already have grey hairs :)
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