Revision

If Noel Coward had lived here, he would have revised the line in his song to read, "Mad dogs, Englishmen, and baby squirrels go out in the midday sun."  Okay, it wasn't quite midday, but it was 100 degrees, and it was in the shade of the oak, not out in the sun, but baby squirrels were rampant.  There was enough of a breeze to make the deck more appealing than the living room after barn chores so Bess and I took our accustomed places outside.  It must have been recess for the ground squirrel kindergartners as they were out in numbers.  Stump was the only grownup in sight.  I don't know whether she was the teacher, the nanny, or simply the only responsible adult in the tribe, but she takes her job seriously.  Regardless of the heat, the kidlets chased each other up and down the tree, stopped to grab a snack, then played a rousing game of tag.  It made me tired just to watch.

Down in the barn earlier, I saw the first mouse I've seen in ages.  He poked his nose out of one hole, then another, but wasn't brave enough to come all the way out.  I know how it sounds, but it made me happy and not quite so lonesome.

Tired of binge-watching reruns of cop shows, I reverted to an old friend, a book.  Camille had loaned me a book she'd enjoyed, but I didn't want to start it until I finished one I'd begun some time back and set aside.  Stephen King sucked me in for the rest of the day (and well into the evening) with his book of short stories, "A Bazaar Of Bad Dreams."  At one point during the day it was 104 outside and 95 in the house, and reading was all I could manage.  When King is good, he is very, very good, and he can scare the socks off ya.

Late in the afternoon, we went outside again.  All the little ones were, I suppose, napping, but Stump was once again on guard duty.  She is such a good mama.

The sun tried hard, but could only glow through the pall of smoke from numerous wildfires in the valley when I went out to put the girls to bed.  It never cooled off all night.