June 27, 2006 set a record — a record for high temperatures, that is. Officially the thermometer reached 104 degrees. Quite hot for my skin, to be sure. Wouldn’t fry an egg, though, except on black surfaces. (I didn’t research that). The nighttime reading was down near 60 degrees. That was the official temperature and what I had in my backyard. Ninety four was the top. So my thermometer is 40 years old. Not accurate? Perhaps. More likely the explanation comes from the dozen trees that reach over fifty feet up to cool the air. And a six-foot board fence surrounding the yard to keep still air around many bushes. Adding up all the leaf surfaces gives the equivalent of a million square feet of surface to absorb the heat. (I didn’t research that either). Well I don’t know the physics of it but the temperature is lower. Whatever the science I am spared the heat.
Appears to be magic, doesn’t it?
In a way I suppose it is. I would be content to call it that if I didn’t know better. Trees are more than pretty to look at — a darned nuisance to clean up after, like a husband or kids but the rewards are almost as great.