Beneath the burning skies
Aug. 14th, 2022 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolorosa_12Like much of southeastern England, we've been experiencing a heatwave for the entire week, and a drought for the entire summer — apart from a brief shower of about ten minutes, two weeks ago (which immediately evaporated), it hasn't rained here since May, and the grass is dead and dry. I find it genuinely terrifying, particularly since there appears to be little official action to mitigate the effects. In Australia, I would expect to see routine water restrictions, and a total fire ban, but of course there has been nothing of the sort. (I double checked just now and saw nothing but the big local water compnanies putting out press releases saying they would not impose water restrictions and a government announcement basically saying it was water companies' responsibility to impose such things. I find the latter completely irrational and horrifying — this is surely the responsibility of governments rather than private industry!)
And of course, with no bans in place, I've seen people merrily using sprinklers to water their gardens, hosing down hard surfaces or washing cars with a hose. There still also seems to be a dangerous emphasis in some parts of the press of treating all this as just some lovely warm summer weather, with photos of people swimming at the beach or basking in the sun at picnics. Meanwhile, I feel as if there should be an official campaign teaching people how to protect their houses and gardens against bushfires — all I see when I look at those expanses of dry grass is a handy collection of tinder and kindling. I feel anxious every time I smell smoke, and have to figure out whether someone is having a barbecue, or whether it's something more sinister.
This weekend, I've done my best to avoid the heat and move as little as possible. I had to go to the market, but I managed to be back at home by 9am, and other than that I just made morning trips to the bakery down the road to get an iced coffee. I've spent the rest of the time at home, strategically opening and closing windows and curtains depending on the position of the sun, doing very slow, gentle yoga, reading undemanding books, and watching undemanding TV (of which more in later posts). If I'd planned things better I would have avoided cooking altogether, but I'm not the biggest fan of cold food like salad, so cooking had to happen.
I just wish it would rain. Proper, stormy, deluging rain, for hours and days at a time. It doesn't often rain here in the summer, but two months and counting without rain is unnerving and oppressive. The heat goes on.
And of course, with no bans in place, I've seen people merrily using sprinklers to water their gardens, hosing down hard surfaces or washing cars with a hose. There still also seems to be a dangerous emphasis in some parts of the press of treating all this as just some lovely warm summer weather, with photos of people swimming at the beach or basking in the sun at picnics. Meanwhile, I feel as if there should be an official campaign teaching people how to protect their houses and gardens against bushfires — all I see when I look at those expanses of dry grass is a handy collection of tinder and kindling. I feel anxious every time I smell smoke, and have to figure out whether someone is having a barbecue, or whether it's something more sinister.
This weekend, I've done my best to avoid the heat and move as little as possible. I had to go to the market, but I managed to be back at home by 9am, and other than that I just made morning trips to the bakery down the road to get an iced coffee. I've spent the rest of the time at home, strategically opening and closing windows and curtains depending on the position of the sun, doing very slow, gentle yoga, reading undemanding books, and watching undemanding TV (of which more in later posts). If I'd planned things better I would have avoided cooking altogether, but I'm not the biggest fan of cold food like salad, so cooking had to happen.
I just wish it would rain. Proper, stormy, deluging rain, for hours and days at a time. It doesn't often rain here in the summer, but two months and counting without rain is unnerving and oppressive. The heat goes on.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-14 09:11 pm (UTC)on one hand I'm moving in less than a week so I could just let her garden wither and not give a fuck but on the other hand, I also want my deposit back. (I'm pretty sure not watering the garden is not grounds to withhold it from me but I also don't want to have to fight to get it back, so.) I just. seriously lady. this massive drought and you don't even independently think that maybe watering your flowers shouldn't be a priority??
no subject
Date: 2022-08-19 02:05 pm (UTC)