Living with heat has changed for most of American society

Heat is an enemy, a force much stronger than humans -- heat is a heavy weight grinding a person against stone. Heat is hated. Heat can kill. A number of tropical and subtropical cultures preserve the "siesta, the afternoon nap."  Modern society can be foolish at times, and it seems that there should be laws against working outside when the air temperature is 105 in the shade, and bare ground radiates 150+ degrees.   Most native animals are underground during the heat of the day. Two feet down the temperature stays 55 degrees Fahrenheit year around. During the times of dry heat, the only chance of moisture in any form is underground.

The soapberry flowers are falling. This year's bloom brought few butterflies, despite a much more colorful spring than last year.  It seems that when they fall, a Llanero's mind feels the first oppression of summer's heat, announcing, "The heat has arrived, and there will be no relief for three more months!"

My grandfather raised cattle much of his adult life, and when the Depression sent him job hunting in the city he ended up doing jobs either early in the morning or late into the night. He believed the summer afternoon was made to be beyond quiet and somnolent.  As I have become older I think I now realize that was a time when he could meditate and to let go of tensions of everyday life.

 My father preserved the tradition the best he could. He would leave downtown and drive out to where Lee High School appeared 20 years later, bouncing down the dirt road that became Neely. His mother was living in his house, and she always had a meal of meat, potatoes, salad, and dessert waiting for him. He would go to my parents bedroom and sleep for 30 minutes, and then drive back to town.

When I worked for myself as a nurseryman, I preserved the tradition. I'd be at the job by first gray in the east, and work nonstop until after the noon hour, then head for the house, lunch and then a book, after a hot bath. Come evening, I would return, and water plants until after dark. 

My house had lots of windows, and lots of plants around it. The north side of the house was a favored shade-up place for doves.200 or more came to the pine trees. Doves make interesting noises in the hot afternoon. They gurgle, make white noise buzzes, as well as have a number of different cooing notes.

They are often social, seeming to comment to each other about a possibly scary movement in the leaf litter below, or the BRRRRRT of a roadrunner from the shade of a prickly pear in the pasture. One branch was the main view from the recliner where I read.  Sometimes the doves would do "the wave" with their little pin heads, one after the other turning to look at what approached up the walkway to the house.

We had no air conditioners, just open windows, and a ceiling fan. Enforced afternoon lassitude made the old-time Llaneros take the long view,  and made them feel that time could not be wasted in careful thought and deliberation.

I finally joined the modern world about five years ago and moved to  a house in town with central air-conditioning and a thermostat.  Previously, at the old house, we had installed window unit air conditioners in 1998, when the temperatures topped 110 for several days.  I learned to love to sleep under the cool stream of air. Air conditioning costs money and maintenance, and the wait for a maintenance man can be long.  Air conditioners changed how we live, in more ways than people may realize, I believe.

 My internal thermostat is now erratic. I used to be able to do light physical work (like pruning) without breaking a sweat in the summer morn, but now, I sweat profusely. My internal histamines respond, so I believe my body is radiating, and my skin becomes flushed.

I have heard of a town in Australia, (Coober Pedy) where the houses, stores, and offices are all underground (but I have no idea of constituted streets). I wonder if they have courtyards that serve as rainwater collectors and feed underground cisterns? It might be a more energy efficient and cheaper way to live. Last year's heat brought rolling blackouts of electricity to some here in Texas. Last year's heat overloaded the system. It will probably happen again.  Heat is implacable... as implacable as a rattlesnake poised to strike.