Surviving the 2011 Texas drought

Out of curiosity, I went back through Yesterday's Papers and discovered that if I posted at all in the summer, it was about record breaking heat.  Summer 2010 was killer in many ways, including record heat, but I wasn't posting much. 2009 heat links here, here, and here. 2008 here and here. An unusually wet 2007, and a hot 2006.

This year's heat put us in extreme drought. Wildlife get desperate and vicious looking for food and water. There's nothing out there.

Varmints get hit hard. The heat kills smaller animals like birds and squirrels outright. Raccoons, coyotes, opossums and other furry and feral critters bring bumper crops of fleas and sometimes rabies right to your back door. Cool woodpiles, houses, sheds are hideouts for rattlesnakes, scorpions and spiders as well.

Raccoons are fun to watch but disastrously destructive. They can rip the siding off a house, get in the attic and shut you down, kill any smaller critter. Screen doors are no problemo for them.

Dozens of brush fires flare daily across Texas. Several of them nearby. Walked across the yard tonight and the grass was crunchy.

My aging body doesn't do well with this much heat for this long, not to mention higher utility costs. Poor Linus came in one night looking like he was loaded on something, falling over, eyes all weird, forgetting what he was doing. Most likely chomped on a toad. They're attracted by A/C runoff water, any place that might be damp.

Some friends lost a dog to a rattlesnake this week, even with a dose of antivenin. Dog -> Jack Russell terrier-sized. Rattler -> 5 feet long, with a 10 button rattle. No contest.

I've been entertaining a lot of "what ifs." What if the drought doesn't break? What if we are SOL? Drought is a constant way of life in many countries around the world. What if I were a mother in a land with no water? I can hardly imagine it. Staggering numbers of people, mostly children dying of famine. Apart from the humanitarian aspect, simply physically enduring that extreme environment is incomprehensible.

So what can I do about it?

• Can't take water to Africa, but I can help trap and neuter some of our feral cats and take them out to our friends' now dogless farm to keep the vermin under control. 
• Relocate the 2 adult and 5 baby raccoons waaaaaay outta town. 
• Use as little water as possible. 
• Set the thermostat a couple of degrees warmer. 
• All the little conservation tricks and habits of four decades. 
• Pay attention to how far off the path we are. 
• Look for solutions instead of aggregating wealth and power. 
• Individually and collectively. 
• Reward innovation. 
• Allow change to happen. 
• Educate.
• Drink a quart of water before going out. 
• Wear sunscreen, long sleeves, UV resistant clothing and eye shades. 
• Remember that the sun is brutal mid-day, but the temperature peaks later. 
• Keep animals indoors or in total shade with plenty of water and food. 
• Don't leave ANYTHING living or meltable in a car, especially people and pets. 
• Keep a gallon of drinkable water in the car, plus refillable bottle.
• Talk to people.
• Read the science and read some more.
• Protect your children. Get them UV resistant bathing suits and hats--don't rely on sunscreen alone. 
• Read this.

What would you add?

Heat records fall as temps skyrocket in Texas

 East Germany countryside. Cool and wet. Exactly the way I want to be.


It's bad, folks. The Arizona fire has spread to New Mexico. We're losing our southwestern forests.

West Texas is burning. Every day, two to three new wildfires pop up all over Texas. No rain to even the odds.

So on top of the record-breaking triple digit heat, we have smoke. A hazy pall that's been accumulating for many months now. The desert-dry wind stirs it up, but it doesn't leave.

No rain to wash it out. None to keep the wild critters alive. I so hate it when it gets so hot and dry the birds walk around with their beaks open--too dry to close them.

Speaking of skyrockets, Austin's Fourth of July celebration has been cancelled due to extreme weather conditions.  No fireworks, no orchestra at Auditorium Shores this year. Thank all the gods and goddesses for banning high-flying burning objects in our present tinderbox of a state. I shudder to think of how much of Austin would burn to ashes. Nor should 75 musicians have to swelter in concert black, fight the wind to keep the scores on the stands, and sit in uncomfortable chairs, in the dark...don't even think about the traffic and parking.

I've been into weather since I can remember. When I was a kid, it thrilled me, excited me. Even when lightning struck the utility pole I was standing in a puddle right next to. When our family outraced a tornado coming up over the hill. 

I was convinced in 1970 that the US was already beyond squandering natural resources, corporations poisoned the water, air, and earth to profit greedy bad guys. No one was doing much of anything to fix it.

Now, the weather makes me afraid. I'm old enough to have seen weather patterns change exponentially. I don't need the stats, I've experienced it. And it is ramping up. El Nino and La Nina models are breaking up. A few other countries are doing what they can to fix it. The US, certainly one of the top three greatest polluters on earth, continues to rape the environment with impunity.

Living in Australia for two years opened my eyes to what life is like under the hole in the ozone. Excessive, dangerous radiation. Lots of cancer. Lots of UVA/B resistant clothing and accessories. Lots of awareness. And the hole is growing. You don't have to call it Global Warming. Something IS happening, however, and we'd best get to it.

It's 1:02 a.m. Our local Austin weather champions cautiously hold out the first chance for rain in half a year. We're under a severe thunderstorm warning. Some of us will get less than an inch, most won't.

Thunder! Rain! Yes! Solstice! Night of the Long Dance. Time to run outside and dance in the rain!