The historic, unprecedented, and unrelenting heat wave which has gripped most of the planet continues for some reason to spare the State of Georgia.

Sure, it's hot out, but it's mid-July in freaking Georgia, for Christ sakes. It's Georgia mid-summer hot, which is to say humid and in the mid-90s, or to put it another way, seasonably hot.  We've had far hotter summers than this one, at least so far.

Death Valley, California had temperatures forecasted as high as 131° F last weekend, which would have topped the previous record of 130° set in 2021.  But temperatures peaked at "only" 128° on Sunday, and relatively cooler temperatures (122-125°) are forecast for this week.

At Persian Gulf International Airport on Iran’s southwestern coast, the heat index - how hot it really feels outside based on both temperature and humidity - hit a record 152° degrees at 12:30 p.m. on Sunday. 

So it's hot right now - the dire predictions of climate scientists seem subdued at this point in time.  Georgia has largely been spared so far, but I feel strange saying that, as if just merely acknowledging it might somehow jinx the climate system and cause us to suffer the same heat as almost everywhere else. Cloud cover - both afternoon thunderstorms and haze from humidity and Canadian wildfires - has somewhat tampered the effects of the Sun here, but the slightest little deviation in the Jet Stream might change all that and plunge us into the same hellscape as the rest of the planet.  

But the trees around me are acting like we're in tornado alley.  Last Thursday night at around 11:30, a major limb fell from a neighborhood tree and partially blocked my road.  Last night, at around 10:15, another major limb fell from a different tree and took the power lines down with it.  Mine and about four other houses were without electricity (i.e., lights, air conditioning, and internet) for about three hours before the power company got service restored. I'm actually pretty impressed by the response of Georgia Power - they were on site within 15 minutes of the downfall and worked diligently until the power was back on.

But I have no idea why limbs are falling at night when there's little to no wind, no rain, and not even extreme heat or drought.  As if I didn't have enough trouble sleeping at night, now I have to worry that  at any moment on any evening, a tree might drop a ton or two of timber onto my house.