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Sunday, October 18th, 2026

Mountain Musings with Uncle Mott — Heat Wave

Jun 25, 2025 | Uncle Mott

Person standing under Mottsville sign outdoors.

I guess I don’t have to tell you it was hotter than a witch’s broomstick last week. But, let’s face it, it’s always hot this time of the year, and people always complain about the weather, especially me. But then people complain when it’s cold. Some folks, especially me, are never satisfied with extreme weather.

Sometimes I stare into space, Tears all over my face. I can’t explain it, I hadn’t ever felt like this before, now that funny feeling has me amazed. I don’t know what to do, my head’s in a haze, It’s like a heat wave burning in my heart. Can’t keep from crying, it’s tearing me apart.  (“Heat Wave” – Martha & the Vandellas – 1963 / Linda Ronstadt – 1975)

Just how hot was it? you ask. It was so hot that my neighbor’s chickens were laying hard-boiled eggs. In fact, it was so hot that cows were seen in the fields giving evaporated milk. The other day, it was so hot that I saw a dog chasing a cat, and they were both walking. Why, when I returned home from Goodwin’s with a loaf of fresh bread, it had turned into toast.

I’m seriously considering booking a room at that ice cave hotel in Quebec, if it hasn’t already melted. I’m so desperate, I’d do anything to escape the heat…well, almost anything. I wouldn’t slip on my baggies and wallow around in the cool, but slimy water of Lake Gregory. Maybe the county will take this as a challenge and ramp up their promised dredging efforts.

Once again this year I have to complain about the lack of fresh yellow corn (sorry, frozen just doesn’t cut it). It has a lot to do with the oil companies cornering the market on yellow corn so they can dilute their gasoline with ethanol. With this heat wave plaguing the country lately, we’ll be lucky to see any corn at all in the coming months, let alone any yellow corn. Why, I heard it was so hot in Iowa the other day that that corn stalks were turning into popcorn in the field. As soon as the cows start squirting out hot, melted butter, I’m packing up my dental floss and hopping the next flight to Iowa.

It’s like a heat wave burning in my heart. Can’t keep from crying, it’s tearing me apart. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, oh, oh, oh…heat wave!

Keep it flyin,’

Uncle Mott

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