Tag: running in summer

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Cooler Weather Lawn Care: Fewer Mows, Surprise Leaves, and a Poison Ivy Plot Twist

Written August 7, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

After July’s grand finale heatwave, the weather finally took a breath. We even had a day so nippy I reached for long sleeves, and my wife reported her morning runs felt… heavy. Same here—only now, thanks to the cool snap, my own runs have been downright pleasant. Bonus: the lawn hit the pause button. When I mowed this morning, I had to squint to see where I’d been. A beautiful problem.

Do I dare skip next week’s mow? Reader, I might. For a minute, I even dreamed mowing season had packed its bags. I’m not delusional; August loves a comeback tour. One warm front and the grasses will go feral again. For now, I’m enjoying the rare, guilt-free chance to close the garage and pretend the mower and I are “on a break.”

Nature, meanwhile, is experimenting with costume changes. After the heat broke, our trees panicked and tossed down a few branches and leaves—an early autumn cosplay. My wife’s planning a leaf-vacuum session this weekend. She spotted the mess first; she also spotted, alas, the poison ivy last week… a little late. She mistook it for Virginia creeper, then discovered the classic truth: “leaves of three, let it be.” She washed up, but the rash still arrived like an uninvited guest. To add insult to injury, the heat in our garage partially melted her old gardening gloves (yes, actually melted). She upgraded to a pair that shields the whole forearm. When poison ivy is in the neighborhood, fashion becomes armor.

We’ve had fewer bugs this summer—small mercy—so she’d been working in short sleeves during those early, not-too-sunny hours. The rash has her rethinking that. She also ordered a tougher trimmer line; the last one snapped like spaghetti. It cost a few dollars more, but if it saves her time (and muttered monologues at inanimate objects), it’s a bargain.

As for me, my feet have been touchy—kidney issues flaring a bit—so I’m pacing myself. Still, between the two of us, the yard looks tidy. Cooler days, slower growth, smarter gear: we’ll take every advantage we can get. If the heat returns, we’ll be ready—with sleeves, stronger string, and a healthy respect for anything with three leaves.

For now, I’m calling it a win: a calm run, a nearly invisible mowing path, and the faint hope of a skipped Saturday with coffee instead of carburetors. August, behave yourself.

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Stormy Skies, Jedi Robes, and a Surprisingly Cool 80 Degrees:

Written July 19, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

After days of heat so intense it felt like we were living inside a convection oven, the skies finally cracked open—dramatically, as if someone upstairs decided enough was enough. About an hour before bedtime, the long-threatened storm rolled in with theatrical flair, dumping buckets of rain and dropping the temperature like a mic.

My wife had been watching the brooding sky all evening, eyeing those dark gray clouds like they owed her money. And when the rain came, it brought with it that earthy, nostalgic smell—part petrichor, part soggy forest floor. The little wooded patch behind our house soaked it all in, sending up the scent of wet leaves and wood.

The temperature drop was swift and sweet. By sunset, it had dipped to a breezy 80°F. That may not sound like sweater weather, but after multiple days of 90+ degree punishment, it felt practically alpine. What’s wild is how 80°F now feels cool to me—a reminder of how my body has changed since my stroke and kidney issues. I used to roast like a lizard under a heat lamp. Now I’m grateful to feel any kind of comfort at all.

Meanwhile, my wife was feeling chilly, which brought back a funny memory: last Independence Day at my mother’s place. She had the thermostat at 78°F, and we were both huddling like penguins in a wind tunnel. I ended up donning my emergency Jedi robe—the one my sister gifted me for my birthday, complete with big sleeves and dramatic flair. It’s followed me across states and seasons, now upgraded to a thicker version for maximum cozy defense.

Before my stroke, I was a walking contradiction—loved the cold but couldn’t regulate it well. I’d fling open windows in the dead of Canadian winter, much to my wife’s horror. She, ever the voice of reason, kept our homes in balance—never too warm, never too cold. Her temperature philosophy? Let nature do its thing, and open the windows at night. It’s worked well in Nashville’s climate, where summer nights still offer a break from the scorch.

So, yes, the weather was finally nicer. I still didn’t hit my personal best pace on my run, but I got it done. According to my app, it was my 11th fastest 10k. Not too shabby for a guy in a heatwave who once wore a Jedi robe to survive a 78°F living room.