Dear Farm Journal,
The intensity of the greenhouse heat almost struck me down today. I was trying to finish up my weekly planting list and was transplanting pickling cucumbers into black plastic in greenhouse 3. I could only stand the fieriness for short stints of time before I scrambled out into the fresh air to let the cool breeze replenish my vitality. I sporadically hose myself down, especially my bare feet and legs which are burning pressed against the black plastic. It was only one bed, one row, but it felt like an eternity. The relief of leaving the heat behind and downing a tall cold glass of water is incalculable. It may be time to start taking midday dips in the Kickapoo River.