Summer Hibernation

I've said before that summer in the Deep South is like winter Up North. It's when you stay inside, hibernate, waiting for the terrible heat (or cold) to go away. You only go out if it's absolutely necessary, and then only if doing water (or snow) sports. Yeah.
We're hibernating. Temps have been in the high 90s, with nighttime lows just below 80, and the heat index most days between 105 - 110. The breezes off the water do help, but I'm not going outside to find out.
So I made peanut butter cookies, like any good hibernating housewife.

I used these adorable cookie stamps my mother gave me when the kids were littler.

This family inhales peanut butter cookies. Anna and I split the duties; she made the dough, and I baked them.
Adam finally conceded defeat and brought his boat work into the living room from the yard. He's making lazy jacks for his mast.

From what I can tell, lazy jacks are a system of lines on a sail boat, attached to the boom and the mast, that catch the sail when you take it down rather than letting the sail fall in a heap into your cockpit. We've been wanting lazy jacks. Adam says "jack" is British slang for "sailor."

This morning I was weary of being cooped up in the house, y'know? I decided to take an early bike ride about 7:30, before the heat hit again like a hammer. It was quite pleasant. Just down  the street I passed under the mimosa trees, one white, one pink.

I wish I could share with you their sweet scent, a cloud of calm in the shade that waits for those who walk or ride through. I pedaled through again just to smell it a second time.
A little further I noticed this majestic sycamore tree.

All around its base were shards of thin bark that sloughed from the tree in the past day or so.

Some were quite large.

 See my foot? See the wrinkled skin on the bark? It looks a little like elephant skin near a joint.

I read online to discover why sycamores shed their bark. I noticed another specimen in town that had done just the same thing. I found no consensus on the matter. Is it the extreme heat we've had lately? Is the tree under stress? Why does one tree exude a luscious scent in these temperatures, while another sheds its skin?
This was a leisurely ride. I found myself needing to be outside, to breathe deeply and relax, to do nothing-absolutely-nothing so my mind/soul/heart/whatever could rest and unwind.
The anchorage is framed by mimosas too.

The morning river was peaceful, but someone on a boat was already out.

I picked up a copy of our free local newspaper ...

 (There's never much of anything in there, you know, but it's an easy read, and I have no sense of obligation to get my money's worth from it, since it'sfree. I pedaled back and returned it to its box after I was done.)
... and I read it near the dinghy dock.

On my way home I passed Adam and Beau walking toward the park for Adam's morning sit-and-study. I'm back indoors now, thankfully.
I've been pondering that sycamore tree. What am I sloughing off lately? Why? Is it sometimes good to get rid of the old so that the new can grow?