As a teenager, I idealized my Grandparents Lynn’s desert lifestyle outside of Tucson, Ariz.
Little did I know that in 50 years, southeast Kansas would be its rival. Boy, are we baking.
My grandparents taught me valuable lessons on how to cope with the heat. At sunrise we took morning walks. In the afternoon, Granddad napped while Granny went to the pool for water aerobics with her friends. In the evening we sat in the shade of the veranda to enjoy the breeze even though the temperature was “still warm,” as they would say.
They were big on acceptance.
I began this piece Thursday evening when at 9 o’clock the temperature was 91 degrees and I was on the back porch enjoying the manufactured breeze of a ceiling fan while the cicadas broke into chorus.
My inner teenager rolls her eyes. But I can sense my grandmother nodding in approval.
I’ve also adopted my grandparents’ habit of getting outside in the early hours.
Friday morning, I’m back on the porch equipped with my computer, coffee and cereal. It’s now 6 a.m. and 76 degrees. Usually a robe is necessary at this hour. I worry about the heat’s stress on my withering lawn.
Curious about the warm night, I was able to verify that last July was the nation’s third-hottest on record and that July’s nighttime temperatures were the highest on record, an average 63.57 degrees for the lower 48.
Thursday afternoon, our lights and computers at the office flickered briefly. Outside temps exceeded 100. Our biggest consolation is that our electric bill for May was almost half of last year’s thanks to solar panels on the Register’s roof.
While in my lifetime I may not witness a dollar-for-dollar return on the investment, I feel good about the alternative energy source.
I INTERRUPT my early morning work routine by wandering into the yard to water and deadhead flowers. Pull stray weeds. I’m kidding. I have more weeds than grass.
I don’t remember my grandparents having any ornamental plants. Perhaps that was another way they graciously yielded to their environment.
With their decision to move to the desert they downsized from a two-story home to an Airstream trailer they pulled behind their Lincoln Continental. According to grandmother, the limited space helped her avoid clutter. Their home was always neat as a pin.
More and more, I am coming to understand their logic in making such a life-changing decision to move to the desert. The sparse climate was tailor-made to their priorities, which they winnowed as the years passed.
