Buh-bye July

Published 11:49 am Friday, August 1, 2025

By Tamar Reno

“Why don’t we move back to Montana?” my husband asked me several years ago, while considering where to set up shop with our bunch of freeloading horses.

“Winter. That’s why,” I answered. My sister and I used to joke that in Montana, if you wanted to leave for work at eight in the morning, you started shoveling snow at eight the night before. While truth is always funnier than fiction, Montana winters are no joke.

We chose Green Creek instead. This area is horse country. Mild climate. Rolling hills. Top-notch veterinary care and other equine resources. We’ve racked up enough frequent flyer miles at Tryon Equine Hospital and the Hay Rack to take a trip around the world. The stockholders of Tractor Supply send us Christmas cards (not really).

We live where the “weather suits our clothes.” Spring here is beautiful. Fall is better still. Those cold snaps we get in winter feel like an adventure because we know they won’t last. We celebrate snow. We love it here.

Until July. July in these foothills makes me question my sanity. This past July 4th, we took our grandson to the Fabulous 4th celebration in Columbus, which will forever be remembered in the family lore as the “Independence Day Death March.” Our brains turned to soup. 

The horses, soaked in sweat, gave us a look that said, “You gotta’ be kidding us.” We hosed them off every day just to keep them alive. During the hottest part of the day, they planted themselves in front of the fans and considered their life choices. Is there a mental health hotline for horses?

When we’re in the thick of it, my brain knows July will end, but my body does not. My body doesn’t know the difference between 31 days and eternity. It’s the same for the family dog. He passed out on the cold stone floor in the foyer, hanging up a placard that said, “Wake me in October.”

This July was an overachiever and went out with a bang. Or a last dying breath, depending on who you’re asking. We sweltered under a high-pressure system, which caused sinking air, air that literally compressed as it got hotter. When it feels like the heat is heavy, that’s not an illusion. The National Weather Service calls it a heat dome.

If it feels like it’s getting hotter, that’s not an illusion either. According to the annual report from NOAA National Centers for Environmental Information, 2024 saw the warmest surface temperatures since global records began in 1850. Surface temperatures matter because they determine environmental processes that are important to life, including the water cycle (e.g., evaporation, clouds, surface water, precipitation), the carbon cycle, and the flora and fauna that live here. In case you’re unclear, humans are considered fauna.

It’s too soon to report on the temperatures of 2025, but, in highly scientific terms, July was a doozy. None of us were sad to see it go. Especially our freeloading horses. 

Tamar Reno writes from her home in Green Creek. You can find more of her writing at tamarreno.substack.com or email her at thehorsesofbearcreekfarm@gmail.com.