A friend of mine lives in Austin, and he swears that the summer there is hotter than it is in Virginia. I disagree. While his shoes might melt to the pavement, I sweat through my clothes when I go to take out the trash. Now, I don’t want to have to buy new shoes all the time of course, but I would like to not feel like I have to stand in front of the freezer after a simple chore.
It’s probably enough to say that my body was not built for Virginia summers. And yet, I love it here, and I love the garden in the summer when everything is beginning to fruit and Sawyer and I can go out and harvest beans and tomatoes before the sun is too far into the sky.
That boy is a gardening machine these days. He grabs my market basket as soon as he has shoes on his feet and heads out, sometimes with me,
