June in Tucson

Temperature highs top three figures for the foreseeable future. Humidity is almost non-existent. No rain is expected until July, and we've had only two rainfalls all year. That's an average of one rain a season. Life is good.

I've been watering mesquite and acacia trees, and even an occasional palo verde that is strategically placed to afford some privacy. Geraniums get water each day, sometimes twice, as do our two gardenias and four Mexican heathers. Salvia, Spanish lavender, queen palms, Mexican palms, our one petunia and the cactus in planting strip on the south side get water twice or thrice a week. Eucalyptus trees on the west need water, but the large one on the east happily draws water from the septic drain field. It's a very lush gum tree.

Shari's vegetable garden is doing well. Last summer we underestimated the stunting power of the Southwest sun. This summer, garden umbrellas gave shade until repeated rodent and lizard trips to the salad bar forced us to construct a metal-cloth cage covered with shade fabric. Basil is happy (Shari's pesto is great), plenty of tomatoes are turning red, and we've been enjoying the various salad greens that she likes to plant, grow, pluck, wash and mix with romaine. We eat lots of salads.

Fortunately, the snow pack in Colorado -- a major source of Tucson water -- is plentiful, so I don't hesitate to keep the swimming pool topped. It's up to 82 degrees, water that is refreshing in the late afternoons and evenings when the sun is less fierce.

The cool mornings are precious. Up by five, fling doors open, make coffee, and out by six or earlier to attack overgrown vegetation.  Cut, chop into trash-can sized pieces, and smash down with a large piece of mesquite firewood. That's my favorite kind of morning.  They don't recycle yard waste in Tucson, so oleander, agave, mesquite, palo verde, cholla and prickly pear cactus -- all of it quite dense and heavy -- get stuffed in two trash cans, 96 gallons and 250 pounds each. I think I've stuffed over 250 lbs. per can many time. The big green plastic cans come with two wheels, and you should see their ruts left in the hard gravel when I pull them to the end of the driveway.

By nine o'clock, maybe ten, I'm so thirsty I can't swallow. It's time to go inside and enjoy the evaporative cooler. I usually stay inside the house from late morning to mid afternoon, where and when I dress like trailer-trash: underwear, maybe shorts and still wearing the T-shirt from last night. But if I have professional work to do, I need my shower and fresh clothes.

Dogs get fed at four, which is about the time the desire to swim overpowers the fear of sunburn.  Pool dress is extreme casual. Absent guests, it's beyond trailer-trash, not even a bare minimum.

Set up the i-pod and the little, battery powered mono-speaker, dial up some Hawaiian, Turkish folk, Persian classical, mellow African, lively Andalus or folk Hungarian playlist, and trawl the pool surface to skim debris.

 Peel, plunge and breaststroke. All refreshed and ready for dinner and a movie.