two thousand twenty
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Thus far, summer 2010 here in Wayne County has been one of near record heat and precipitation.  If one was to ask us how hot it's been at Twin Steeples Farm, a typical answer might be, "It's so hot our cows are giving evaporated milk," "It's so hot the chickens are laying hard-boiled eggs," or "It's so hot the popcorn is popping right on the ear in the field." 

Having said that, I must admit I was not prepared for the ultimate unspoken statement I sensed when Jillian, my middle granddaughter, walked through the door one morning last week.  I was babysitting my youngest granddaughter, McKinnly, for an unprecedented weeklong term and Jillian wanted to spend a couple of days with ther little cousin before returning for her second year at D'Youville.  I thought it was the perfect time for her visit since I could not imagine spending five full days alone with a three-year old! 

I had just finished giving McKinnly her morning shower when we heard the back door open.  Of course, we flew to the kitchen to see who had just entered the house.  I knew who it was, and wanted McK to be surprised, but neither of us was prepared for what we saw.  McK came to a screeching halt, put her little hands together over her mouth and stared up at Jill.  My beautiful, slender, brunette, normally shy 19-year old granddaughter had colored her hair - not blond or auburn or even silver, but bright hot pink!  Once the initial shock wore off, I couldn't help wonder what my mother would have said or done if I came home looking like that as a teenager.  I was hoping to think of a quick and brilliant, nonsensical comment to make without laughing out loud or hurting her feelings, but that didn't happen, just then. 

Later during lunch, we were discussing how hot it had been in Philadelphia, where Jill's older sister lives and teaches 8th grade math at summer school in a city school building without air conditioning.  This was a perfect segue for my nonchalant comment, "It must have been hotter than that where you live, way down there in Gorham, (NY)." 

The teenager took a bite of her tuna and freshly-picked-from-the-garden lettuce on homemade whole wheat bread sandwich.  Between bites she said, "No, not really.  Why?" 

"Well, it must have been so hot that it burned your hair, and it still hasn't cooled off?" I said while spooning fresh homemade raspberry applesauce into my container of yogurt.  Her comeback was, "Yes it did, but it was the stuff from the fire extinguisher that made it this color!" 

McK, unmoved by our humor ended the conversation with, "C'mon Jillian.  Let's do my Strawberry Pancake Puzzle." 

And so life goes on in the Wayne County, NY hamlet of East Palmyra. 


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2 Comments to "How hot is it?"

  1. Anonymous Said,

    Precious! John Cieslinski

    Posted on Sun Jul 18, 08:01:00 AM EDT

  2. Seth C. Burgess Said,

    "I couldn't help wonder what my mother would have said or done if I came home looking like that as a teenager."

    What an interesting thought! I've always known hot pink hair, though this is a prime example of the things we're doing today that our ancestors may not have had the capacity to even dream up.

    Might Native Americans or such cultures have had hair-dyeing techniques that could result in such a loud color?

    Posted on Mon Jul 19, 12:23:00 PM EDT


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