A Postcard from Bulgaria

Today, my son and I were trying to write a postcard to his kindergarten group, but we were at a bit of a loss for words. How do you tell children who are in the middle of Germany’s rain soaked summer that here it is so hot that we really can’t go out during the day? 

Children aren’t the only ones who won’t understand.

How do I tell you that it is so hot, I can’t put the baby in diapers because the “moisture lock” would mean immediate heat rash? How do I explain to people who aren’t here that the ground is so dry, the soil is cracking in our village garden? How do I tell city dwellers and planners, that if they had just left a little more space for a little more greenery, the heat would not be held in the buildings and in the pavements for so long in the evening?

If you’re thinking of paving a gravel driveway or putting in a patio rather than having more grass, how could I beg you to reconsider for the health of your family and the whole earth?

This year, in my part of Canada, Christmas was green and Easter was white. We flew away from a snowstorm in Toronto to find a heatwave in Frankfurt. In April. And here, in fertile Bulgaria, the garden of Europe, there is not enough moisture for flowers to grow.