Into Thick Air

Mornings are a great time to go down to Clam Beach.  It's shady and cool.  There's a big rock to sit on. This view is looking downriver.

The restful thing about the river is there's nothing to be done there.  No weeding, planting, watering or mowing, it's a true gardener's retreat.  The Grand River comes up and goes down when it wants.  It defies even the thought of landscaping along the shore.  Most of these young willows have already been completely underwater this spring.

Here's the view looking upriver. It's beautiful.  Flying overhead are bald eagles and, if I sit quietly for too long, vultures.  "Just resting!" I shout up at them.

Access to the river is through a lot of underbrush.  The happy thing is no poison ivy will grow where it floods.  Here, I'm following Beau, who seems to know the way.

Walking up the sunny, steep hill from the river is not fun when it's humid.  Breathing air that has 85% humidity makes a person gasp like a fish out of water.

My thoughts turned to mountain climbing above the Death Zone, where supplemental oxygen is needed.  That led me to considering that people who work outdoors in the hot, humid summer could really use a solar-powered machine that wrings the water out of the air.  This conditioned air could be supplied by a lightweight tank in a backpack.

On several occasions, I've gotten a touch of heat sickness while gardening on  humid days. No matter how much water I drank, it seemed that my brain couldn't cool down despite copious amounts of sweating.  Now, I avoid getting a poached brain when it's hot and steamy.  I stay out of the sun in the heat of the day, which is from eleven to six.  At those times, I toy with the idea of not being an outdoor person at all.  Perhaps I'll live in a high-rise in the city and have no windows that open.  After a few hours, though, I start to get cabin fever and have to go find a shady spot under a tree and enjoy the breeze.

Yes, a dehumidified air gizmo would be a boon.  All outdoor people would come to rely on them.  Then we would read true adventures of intrepid gardeners who ventured out on humid days without supplemental conditioned air.

Someone should certainly invent such a device, even if Ed Viesturs would never buy one.