This is the time of year when the early morning hours of browsing, answering emails, researching and blogging are supplanted (nice, seasonally-appropriate verb-pun) by yard and garden work before the sun crests the east ridge and the temps begin to become uncomfortable for hoeing, loading mulch, hauling brush and such.
I don’t suffer heat very well, so it’s good that, even without AC in the house, we stay pretty cool here, in a relative short of way, in our sheltered cold-sink valley on the western flank of the Blue Ridge mountains.
In my home town of Birmingham, OTOH, it has been too warm even before sunrise for months, and yet I used to have hard-labor summer jobs out in the HHH (heat-haze-humidity) and not think much about it.
I need to move along, so will redirect your attention to a piece from a couple of summers ago about my (and mankind’s) past and future relationship with conditioned air.