Showing posts with label searing heat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label searing heat. Show all posts

Sunday, July 31, 2022

The Leafy Glens Of Old Texas

 


It's a beautiful summer Saturday morning in North Central Texas, so what do you do? What you always do, stroll down sylvan streets to the Pick 'n Steal, aka "Gas Station" for a cheap coffee refill. As you do, reflect on the trees and the generous wisdom of the people who planted them.

Good to look at? Yes, beauty's important. Allies? For sure, they turn persynkind's ancient enemy, Carbon Dioxide, into life giving Oxygen. Oh yes, our friends in the War on the Weather, but more than this, they give us shade.




Don't laugh, this is important when the sun sears down like an incinerating laser. Step into the shade of a tree and feel the drop in temperature; trees make the oven bearable, and that's partly why they planted them. Not just for good looks or their facility for hanging criminals, but as a natural cooling system.

That in mind, why did the genius patrol who run this place chop down all the trees leading up to the Square? Yes, they left the Hanging Trees standing at the courthouse but pretty much everything else had to go.  Their roots messed up the sidewalk, they claimed. Chop them down.


why do you hate trees, 1st Baptist?

Net result? A sun blasted parade square of concrete on the approach to the halls of justice. Walk it at your peril. Did someone profit off the replacement of beautiful cooling trees with hideously ugly hot concrete? Surely not. 

Stay Frosty,

LSP

Monday, July 25, 2022

Thursday, August 12, 2021

Getting The Job Done

 



It was hot, searing hot.




Do you think that stopped us from driving out and taking care of business?




No, it did not. And I tell you, there are precisely no luggage racks on the back of a hearse. Lawyers? Different story, and I won't get into guns, which are an issue in this instance.




Mr. Storrs, Chief, rest in peace. 

From somewhere in Texas,

LSP

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Tales of Country Life in Texas



It was a day much like any other day, triple digit heat bouncing off Walmart's car park and you could feel the nuttiness as soon as you got inside the store. 

There it was, no sooner through the automatic doors and people were acting weird, off-hand and unbalanced, as though things could spin out of control. Maybe it was the heat.


Random SMLE

I took a cart and pushed on to stock up, milk, bread, wine, cheese and for some reason, root beer. It seemed good to me, I don't know why and it wasn't easy to get, there was too much random motion.

As I pulled the 4 pack of IBC into the cart, a weather-beaten woman slid across the aisle in front of me in dirty socks. No shoes, just socks; I guess it's easier to skate over Walmart's vinyl floor in socks, shoes have too much traction. I dodged out of the way but didn't get far.


Furries

A grinning, white haired giant loomed out of the freezer aisle into my path. "Say," he growled, "What's the only room in the hospital where they'll notice you?" I wasn't feeling quick and told him I didn't know. That satisfied him, after all, this was his joke. "I'll tell you, Emergency. They have a sign, says I... C... U..." 

We locked eyes and a grin creased his already lined, tan face. I told him that was pretty funny and he nodded. A moment of understanding. In the meanwhile, sock-skater had disappeared into the depths of the store and I checked out, passing the old men sitting on the bench outside the hair salon, looking brown as nuts under their veterans hats and not doing much at all except regarding the spectacle of the place unfold. This was their afternoon; I noticed one had been in Korea, but don't stare, it's rude.


Note The 12

I loaded my groceries into the rig and there, across the melting asphalt, were two young guys playing show-and-tell with a pump action twelve gauge outside their truck. Hey, why not, it's Walmart in August, there's no rule. 

Back home, Eduardo and Maria were slaughtering chickens in the back yard and getting it on to some Mexican music. They're good people and I like them; sometimes they bring me fresh eggs, which taste better than the things you buy in stores.




And that's country life.

In Texas,

LSP