July has not been kind to my garden.

This weekend, while washing dishes, I looked out the back window onto plant casualties: Toppled brown yarrow, and tall raggedy weeds blocked the path. Obnoxious tufts of crabgrass sprang out of corners. Leggy sprays of mustard leaf threatened to choke off the Echinacea. A smelly squash plant had jumped its pot and was stampeding the green beans. The cucumber vine had gone moldy and hung limply off the Rose of Sharon.

Then there was the dog poop. Yuck. The D.C. heat had been keeping me out of the garden, and it showed. It had also been nurturing weeds and frying the good plants-and I'd had enough.

I got out the gardening gloves, grabbed some shears and headed into the jungle. First I got rid of the dog poop, then the weeds, then the dead yarrow, then the crabgrass and the leggy mustard, then...I started to sway and swoon. The heat was getting to me. I sat on the step to catch my breath, but it wasn't long before I spied more weeds and crabgrass. So I dove back in to pull them.

This time, though, I didn't last very long. I was sweating gallons, puffing and getting badly sunburned- time to go inside for a cold shower. I gathered up my garden equipment and tried the doorknob. Nothing. It wouldn't turn. What the.....? Then it dawned on me: About an hour ago my husband had told me he was going out. He must have locked me out of the house.

Needless to say, I was hopping mad. Here I was on the brink of heat exhaustion, locked out of the house in a sketchy neighborhood with no phone.

Well, nothing to do but bang on the neighbors' doors. A neighborhood newcomer in a basement rental was home (most of our neighbors average a six-month stay; a year counts as a long time). She eyed me warily but handed me her cell phone to call my husband. I returned it to her covered in grime and beat a hasty retreat.

Half an hour later, my husband found me sprawled on the front step-I have to admit that the heat won this round. But here's the good news: My tomatoes are making a comeback. The netting we draped on them is keeping the predators at bay. And, unlike me, they seem to like the heat.