August is usually hot and dry, but this year July was too, and June. Wildfires and water shortages, rivers so low the fish are dying, this summer has been a national emergency. I posted this earlier today, but August doesn’t mean anything else this year, so I’m adding it to the dverse ‘August’ prompt.


I picked blackberries again,
all that seems to flourish
in this wasted summer,

and beneath my feet,
the ashes of clover and vetch,
yellow dust rising

that should bind deep,
damp and sweet,
growing green roots and shoots.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

36 thoughts on “Drought”

      1. We will. They take care of desserts for the rest of the year. I’m not a dessert person. Enthusiasm for preparing family meals runs out before the dessert stage 🙂

  1. mmmm…..do you make blackberry jam? I used to love my gardening and canning days when we lived in Iowa many many years ago! 🙂 I recall always having a LARGE zuchinni crop, no matter how few seeds I planted and then filling the freezer with loaves of zuchinni bread to savor all through the winter. Ah….you’re bringing back the memories 🙂
    But — on a much more somber note…..the drought, the wild fires, calamitous. And as California and parts of the country are parched, Kentucky is flooded. The juxtapositioning is …. well, I don’t even know the words to describe it!

    1. No, I don’t make jam. I probably eat about half a jar of jam a year and husband never touches it, so it would be a lot of work for nothing. I just stew them and mix them with apple to put in tarts, crumbles or just to eat with ice cream.

  2. I can picture “the ashes of clover and vetch, yellow dust rising,” sigh .. 😦 it is so heartbreaking. Thank you so much for adding your voice to the prompt, Jane.

    1. Thank you 🙂 It’s gone on so long now it’s exhausting. This is the third heat wave this summer, expecting 40° again today and not a drop of rain since I don’t know when.

    1. Yet ask people to shower less often, don’t water lawns, wash cars, fill swimming pools, and they look at you as if you’ve suggested they kill their first born child.

      1. The photo is of a patch of meadow. The entire piece of land is like that, broken up by crevasses so you can’t walk across what used to be wild flower meadows without twisting your ankle. Parched and cracking open.

    1. I feel it every day. It’s gone on so long this year and no end in sight yet. A steady 35/37° with peaks of 39/40° more or less since the end of June. The wildlife, the birds, the vegetation, everything is suffering. And you’re right, this isn’t a blip.

  3. I hope you get rain soon. We had a terrible drought with lots of fires that finally broke in 2020. Since then it’s been raining to the point that we’ve had lots of flooding. I’d still rather have floods than fires.

    1. Thank you. It’s doubtful we’ll get any rain before September. Idiots are still lighting fires ‘to have fun’ and forests are burning everywhere.
      I know what you mean about the flooding. Flood water stops when it meets a physical obstacle. Flames don’t obey the same rules.

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