Right in our front yard. The humidity is thick enough that you can blow bubbles, almost. It feels worse than it did in Kansas, perhaps because it is so unusual and unexpected. We went out and walked at 8 am and it was still much too hot, wiltingly hot. Yes, ‘wiltingly’ is a word, because I just used it and you knew what it meant.
The undersides of mushrooms (?) look like piano strings or those accordion file folders or maybe how I wish my life would line up. Aren’t they lovely? And don’t I ask that a lot?!