By Judith Gayle | Political Waves
Yes, the dog days of summer are here, with Sirius, the dog star, taking its traditional position high in the sky. You’d think someone like me who has lived through the blistering heat of Tucson and Las Vegas, counting summer seasons in the run of days well above one hundred, would have acclimatized to high temps, but — trust me — that “dry heat” desert-thing is oh-so-true. Crank up the Fahrenheit, throw in some mid-western humidity and watch me wilt, this year especially.
Heat in the southwest has its own tempo, extremes both anticipated and prepared for, even as it drains the piggy bank in energy costs and pushes the envelope in both comfort and productivity. Spend a season in the desert and you will come away with a checklist of precautions and a clear understanding of your own limitations. Afternoon siestas were born under the brain-baking temps announced by Sirius, wisdom accommodated from the time of the ancient Romans until the advent of air-conditioning (and the signaling of our withdrawal from the reality of nature’s demands, furthering a self-inflicted assault on our intuitive, authentic self.)
Extreme weather is a deal breaker, even in short bursts, burdening the nation’s (now fragile) infrastructure and resources. What we’re facing this year is more than just extreme, it’s exceptional. This is the hottest year on record thus far, with crops decimated and damage growing daily. America is the provider of corn and soy to much of the world — sadly, a good bit of it RoundupReady™ — and the corn crop is estimated to be down by half or more; we will learn the fate of soy in the next couple of weeks, with mid-western temps projected in a long string of triple-digits. Water in lakes and streams, traditionally used for pleasure in the summer season, is being tapped to sustain animals and crops, with 61% of the US in moderate to exceptional drought: some 1,297 counties in 29 states, and counting.