The buzz about the ladies of Fern Forest

As I’ve complained elsewhere in this blog, the summer sun in Florida is hot. Brutally hot. When it’s on, like it is today, it feels like you’ve somehow wandered into a humid blast furnace. Clothes, if you’re wearing them, pull the sweat out of you (the technical term for this is transpiration) and then stick to you like glue. The sweat that doesn’t get mopped up by your clothes drips down your arms, your legs, your face. It’s just plain hot.

Trouble is, it doesn’t pay to stroll around in the south Florida sun naked, either.

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Scrubbing, part two

As the morning wore on, the work crew wore out. The sun rose higher, the temperature followed suit, and the little pick-me-up afforded by the popsicles and other treats wore off. Good thing for this tired man that his family was standing ready to pick him up. As he returned to the truck, he phoned home to set the wheels in motion.

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Scrubbing

The summer sun in Florida is brutally hot. It’s almost directly overhead, and the protection supposedly afforded by Earth’s atmosphere seems marginal at best. Those who live only a short distance from the beach can look forward to the cooling effect of the sea breeze, but for those of us who are farther inland,

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