Lately it's been occurring to me that the planet might be getting hotter. Sure seems that way, though if it were true, I think I’d remember hearing something about it. Of course I limit my news intake to pure, fact-based sources, meaning I judiciously refrain from all #FakeNews and rely exclusively on Fox, and thank God, over there we're devoting all our attention to the humanity-ending threat presented by President Hillary Clinton, so it could be that there just hasn't been time to cover some liberal-imagined End of the World liberal scenario until we get her and Vice President George Soros out of office. So, I don't know. Just seems hotter than it's ever been. It’s probably just me. Maybe it’s just the feeling of all the molecules bubbling from making America so great again.
We left south Iowa on Sunday, continuing our northbound trek in search of cooler weather. The farther north we fled, the hotter it got. By the time we stopped in Blue Earth County in southern Minnesota — as good a place as any on the basis of the name alone — it was 94 degrees one hour before sunset, 84 at 11 PM. It looks like another 150 miles north of here is some sort of meteorological barrier where the temps trend 10 degrees cooler, probably because of proximity to Lake Superior. We'll press on in that direction.
It's not much of a problem for Roo, because she has convinced herself that there are always tadmouses in every pond, so she gets to splash around while I stand on the bank giving the ticks plenty of time to crawl up my legs. When you get far enough north in the United States, the waters begin to run clear, which only encourages her, because she knows that the second the world's first actual tadmouse swims into view, she will be the first dog in America poised to pounce on one. And she's feeling great.
Meanwhile, I had forgotten how difficult it is to move around from camp to camp all the time. Being continually parbroiled while having to set up and break down is a good way to run out of steam. When I saw an Amish couple pulling this little cart in the sun with their six kids on board, I felt a deep kinship with them. The only difference was that their Amish-built cart was built to last longer than ours.