A friend recently described the struggle to find a more suitable dessert for her 92-year-old diabetic husband who loves premium ice cream. I described my awfully-addictive sliced white nectarine topped with cinnamon and vanilla-flavored yogurt and homemade nutty granola. I hope she can manage a low-sugar version to temp him. (I didn't mention the custardy batch of bread pudding in my fridge; I used up a bunch of ends of loaves from the freezer.) I'm still pulling things out of the freezer but this year there is very little garden produce going in.

It's August 11 and this morning it was already 89^o when I rolled out of bed. The lawn is burned to a crisp and I've begun dragging the soaker hose to wrap around large trees (around the drip line at the outer edge of the crown) and running for a few hours. I have a lot of trees, and some are doing better than others. Fire danger in the state is at the next to the top rung of that ladder of dangerous conditions. (When I worked for the Forest Service our district office had a clever large painted Smokey Bear whose arm could be moved up or down to point at the thermometer-style fire danger chart. Once fire danger was in the mid-range someone always perched a brown beer bottle on his hand. Kind of like this, only better looking with a tall thermometer beside him.) I have a plan for how to prop an oscillating sprinkler on my roof and run a hose up to soak the shingles if fire becomes a problem here; I also need to have a go-bag ready just because. Tornado season is usually more of a threat, but this year all bets are off. (A friend in Maui says she is safe, she lives on the "wet side" of the island, but is pulling out things to donate to the shelter that will pop up near her soon.)

This is one ugly summer.