According to our outside thermometer, it’s 89 degrees here. I went for my afternoon walk around the farm to check on the animals. Maria was walking with a friend; Zip was lethargic, came over to rub against my leg, and vanished underneath a chair on the porch to sleep.

The animals barely moved, and neither did the dogs, who were happy to come inside the farmhouse and sleep. This heat knocks me down, and I drink and blog a lot, read a lot, and am always happy to write a lot.

The farm was still, as it always is, in heat like this – it’s also incredibly uncomfortable, which is a bad combination for me.  I stopped to take photos of the colorful garden bed and posted them next as flower art. I think they qualify.

It wasn’t a beautiful day like a few days ago, but the farm has a beauty of its own, no matter the weather. The animals speak well of what it feels like now. Quite often in my world, pictures tell the story better than words.

I find the animals reflect the heat better than a landscape; I’ve seen this pale and lifeless sky come with extreme cold and heat. I had to come in and turn the AC on.

The sheep lay against the barn wall, barely moving for hours.

Asher was painting heavily and lifted his head as if to plead with me for some comfort. I couldn’t help him.

Constance kept her head down. Animals know how to be still.