Pause in July

Here in the south we're sitting smack in the middle of my least favorite time of year. The air is so thick and humid - and here in the Atlanta Metro pollution bubble, so toxic - that it's chewy. And in July, while my motivation was to do nothing outside, I have been hard on myself. Other people get outside. Other people continue keep their gardens meticulously. Others keep their bird feeders filled religiously.
Well, so what.
So while my tomatoes are still producing, some (not all) of my heirlooms are gearing up to offer me their first fruits, while my serrano peppers and tomatillos are loaded to the gills, while my viburnums and hydrangeas are establishing themselves, while my gardenia shrub is producing fragrant and fragile blossoms, while my coral bells are spreading and my backyard is becoming an incubator for eastern bluebirds, northern red cardinals and towhees, I am coasting through the hottest and my least favorite time of the year. If I lived in a different climate, I'd be doing different things. In the south, I make sure air conditioning and ceiling fans are in ample supply.
Everything I just mentioned above? I planted that. In the spring. When the weather was civilized. It's officially one of my most productive years on record. And I can be proud of it. I enjoyed it, and I don't think it was just a fluke.
But I'm giving myself permission to hate July.
So can we get on with fall, please? July's heat has been brutal. Time for an early retirement.

--Laura