It's summer. Mom has asked you to go out and pull a few weeds. Hey, it's not your idea of a great time, but it pays the bills. Good thing your living expenses are pretty cheap as a 12-year old. You head out the door, grab the little shovel thing, and walk to the garden. "Hey, this isn't so bad," you think.  "Maybe if I take my time, Mom will get my little sister Gerty to rinse and load the lunch dishes and wipe the counters." Time flies. Well at least it does for about seven minutes. You have actually pulled one weed, eaten two handfuls of strawberries, and collected three worms to torture Gerty. "Wow!" you say to yourself, "This is hard work."

The heat is on. That big ball of fire in the sky is beating down on you, taking it's toll on your energy level. You pull another pesky weed from the tomato section. "Whew," you say almost wiping your forehead, but then deciding against it. "I don't think I can stand this hard work much longer. Maybe another strawberry or two." You look at your watch. You look at the sun. "Does mom really expect me to do this in the middle of the day? Maybe I 'll just rest under the apricot tree for a few minutes." Twenty minutes after you begin your task, you drag back to the house.

"Thank goodness for swamp coolers," you think as you throw yourself onto the couch in the family room. "Hey Mom, I just can't dig anymore weeds. Its just too hot out there."  Mom studies you for a bit.  It's a good thing you left that sweat on your forehead.  "You do look hot," sighs mom. "I guess the weeds can wait until it cools down a little," she says as she heads towards the fridge for a tall, cold glass of fruit punch with your name on it. "Whew," you say to yourself, "that went well. I wonder if she's forgotten that Dad is taking me to the baseball game tonight?"

The fruit punch arrives. Before you allow yourself the pleasure of that first cool, quenching sip, you place the glass against your forehead and instantly feel the chill of the cool drink lessening the memories of your twenty minutes of torture in the garden. You finish the drink, set the glass on the end table, and reach in your pocket. You have cooled down, but the worms still feel plenty warm. Time for some fun. "Gerty. . ."

Of course the above story is pure fiction. You, unlike the 12 year old in the story, always finish your chores and would never tease your little sister or brother. But some things in the story are very real. Summer is a great time of year. If you go to a school where you have summer vacation, it is probably the best time of year. But many people find that summer brings and unwanted guest - heat, and lots of it. The heat is on.