Name that movie . . .
Not too long ago, I posted (boasted?) about the amount of rain we had here in the Mad City.
I spoke too soon.
I lived in southern California during the early '90s - my parents still live there - so I know a little about drought. I was a willing participant in the "If it's yellow, let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down" campaign. Not happy, but willing. I've seen my share of wildfires, most notably being just over the mountain from the Yellowstone fires when I lived in Wyoming, which resulted in our town being invaded by moose and grizzlies, as well as a lot of smoke and ash. I know hot. I know dry.
But this is getting ridiculous. We've lived in Wisconsin for 16 years and today I did something, for the first time since we've lived here, something I never would have thought I'd find myself doing living in Wisconsin a block off the lake . . .
. . . I watered the grass.
Now, every bird and squirrel in a mile radius seems to have found my little watering hole. I've got cardinals, robins, hawks, crows, sparrows. I feel like Alfred Hitchcock has moved in down the street. And there's no relief in sight. At least the temperature is set to drop. Next week, it should be at least reasonably warm and bone dry, rather than hellishly hot and bone dry. The last three days here have been among the six hottest days ever recorded in Madison. Global warming, here we come!