If you want evidence of global warming, just start recording when people in Cayman first mention that it’s hot outside, then compare dates over five years.
Didn’t it used to be well into June or even July before we all felt like eggs on a skillet? It’s May and we’re already beetling from the house to the car like movie astronauts with 30 seconds of oxygen to get to the escape pod from the self-destructing main module.
At least I am now familiar with how the wild chickens operate. When we first moved into this house, I’d be driving out and see what appeared to be mounds of feathered death lying on the ground everywhere. I’d slam on the brakes and yell out loud, “No, no, NO!” as I ran to try and save them from this horrible outbreak of Beak Fever or whatever it was.
Of course, it was my ignorance. The chickens just love lying down on their sides on the hot ground, feet splayed out. I’ve usually only witnessed that behaviour at about 2am in a nightclub parking lot.
As summer approaches, the fowl are basically breaking out the deck chairs and having a holiday with the iguanas. Meanwhile, we humans seek out the comfort of air-conditioning.
It’s amazing how we all run at different temperatures. Yes, weight can be a factor – the heavier you are, the more likely you’ll be susceptible to the heat; I speak from personal experience. But some people, for inexplicable reasons, just seem to have a different internal thermostat than others. A table of us would sit there, baking, while one member says something about sensing a slight chill.
“Do you feel that?” she’d ask, shivering slightly.
What? The stifling breath of Hades on my neck? An open oven somewhere nearby? The threat of an active volcano under my chair?
As far as I’m concerned, she’s proof of alien life roaming among us.
Naturally, with the heat of summer comes the rain. Those of us who have lived here for at least a year or so know how it works, yet the first downpour always seems to surprise us. Social media lights up with reports about the first storm of the season. Lots of “Wow! Did you hear the thunder last night?” and “Anyone else without power in [enter district here]?”
Want to know how to predict the weather each day? Count the gray roots in the hair of any event or wedding planner. They have 20 different apps on their devices predicting everything from cloud cover to precipitation and wave heights. The US National Hurricane Center probably calls Celebrations to ask for the 24-hour outlook before it posts its updates.
I’ve actually been very happy to see the annual showers begin, as we have one mango on our tree that I would really like to see thrive.
Now, when I say “one mango”, I’m not singling out a particular fruit from its siblings. I literally mean that we have a solo, solitary mango on the whole tree. It’s a young plant, so I wasn’t sure we’d be lucky enough to see blossoms on it this year. Our main curiosity was exactly what type of mango it bore.
It started as a wee green marble, and then slowly got bigger and bigger. It was so exciting, we braved the mosquitoes every other night to check on it. It was worth the pint of blood to watch how it was morphing into a golden treasure. I swear, if we’d had a doorway and piece of chalk, near that tree, we would have been drawing a line to mark our mango’s change in height each week.
Thanks to our hive of friends on Facebook, we have ascertained that it is a Nam Doc, which is fantastic. When that thing is ripe, we’re going to treat it with a deference usually reserved for a meal with royalty. We’ll break out the good china for the event and maybe even have the soothing sounds of a steel pan in the background.
Part of me almost feels guilty. It manages to be the one mango to brave the odds, and the moment it comes to fruition (ha ha), we’re going to slice it off, cut it up and eat it. Super-dark.
Yes, hotter temperatures and lots of rain are coming our way in these summer months. We’re quietly hoping that showers are all they’ll be, and we’ll avoid the really nasty storms. This time of year can be a blessing and a curse. Mango season or hurricane season? I know which one I’d choose.
We’ll see you at the Farmer’s Market with our single Nam Doc. We’ve now officially got a crop, so look out, Joel Walton – there’s a new kid in town.
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