The summer heat was blessedly tolerable until recently. Typically, by July we’re well into the cursed dog days, with the annual tradition of kvetching about record-breaking triple-digit temperatures dominating conversations from Beaumont to El Paso and Perryton to Brownsville. Indeed, this is normally the time of year when folks in Texas start to quietly reflect on life choices having to do with where they’ve chosen to live out their hot, sweaty, miserable lives. “I hear it barely gets into the eighties in Santa Fe.” And yet here we are.But you know the familiar old maxim that goes, “If you don’t like the weather in Texas, wait five minutes”? It’s used to illustrate the fickleness of meteorological conditions here. Everyone knows it; you hear it a…
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