Here on beautiful Puget Sound we are known for our depressing gray skies and eternally soggy weather. The lead up to the 4th of July is always hard for me, because it is cold and damp, and I find myself champing at the bit to see some sunshine. My husband and I have even been known to be so desperate for a little sunshine we jump in the car and drive to Eastern Washington, not stopping until we find the sun. That usually happens just as we arrive in Yakima, 3 hours later.
The patch of blue is a brief, cherished moment as that month known around here as June-uary gets into full swing. You plan a picnic, but only where there may be shelters.
The sound of rain sizzling as it hits the cover of the barbecue is the music that tells us sunshine is just around the corner. Of course, we know the chance of rain on our 4th of July celebration is great–75%–we still go blue-tarp camping and drag the miserable dog out for a day at the beach whether he wants to go or not.
Then magically, on the 5th of July, God “flips the switch” and summer arrives, with heat no northwesterner can bear. “Gawd it’s hot! It’s got to be 75 degrees! Poor Earl is melting, we have the fan going on him. He can’t take the heat, you know.”
We have a narrow comfort range here–68 degrees to 75 degrees is about the limit.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this post, but I’m going in style.