If you grew up in the Pacific Northwest, you have a pretty good understanding of how the seasons work. The winter is long, rainy and wet, SAD (seasonal affective disorder) runs ramped from household to household and you often find yourself questioning your own sanity and why you live in ‘the good old P-N-W’.
Spring rarely exists, I’m not even sure you could call what we get spring. Summer is too short, lasting roughly 6-8 weeks and fall is celebrated because, well, we are Pacific Northwesterners after all .
We often complain of the rain and we complain of the heat. We are never truly content with any of it and the topic of the weather ALWAYS is bound to come up in any conversation.
We just love to talk about the weather.
Those of us through the PNW had a dose of summer-like weather back in April and early May, which happens every year, causing mass confusion and too many smiling faces for that time of year. The weather quickly turns from soggy and damp to bright, sunny and warm, and everyone pulls on their shorts, digs deep into the back of their closet to retrieve their flip flops and heads outside to get their first sunburn of the season. Because who ever remembers to put sunblock on in April or May?
Gardens are started, vegetables are planted, BBQ’s are smoking and then… WHAM! In strolls a forecast that has you cursing the weather Gods and questioning your memory. Why the hell did we plant our garden this early… again? Then, the soggy, wet, dreary rain starts again, lasting for weeks. Your burn quickly fades back into a translucent white and you are once again asking yourself why you didn’t take your dad up on his offer to move the family to Hawaii when you were a child.
However, June is here and the weather is looking brighter and once again, it leaves us wondering if maybe this whole global warming thing IS actually happening. We are back in our garden, this time replanting what was planted too early. There is a new pinkish-red layer on our skin and once again, our flip flops have been moved to the front of our closet. Summer, just maybe, is here to stay.
I like to poke fun at the fact that, I too, fall for it every year. I am a born and raised Pacific North-westerner, who, like everyone else, is vitamin D deficient and cold.
When the sun comes out so do the cut-off jean shorts and bare feet in the grass.
Sometimes you will even find me stopping and taking a little break underneath the big, old black walnut tree in our yard.
I’m desperate for signs of new life and I often walk the property looking for anything I can grasp onto that summer is in fact, right around the corner.
I’m not the only one sun deprived.
But there are those that don’t always appreciate the sun. I suppose if I was covered in what I could only equate to wearing about five North Face puffy vests, I probably wouldn’t welcome the warmth with the open arms that I do.
Then it all brings me back to why I started this little ol’ blog. These little guys, crooning their songs on a warm summers night.
There is life on the farm, lots of life. The proof is in the pudding, I think summer is here.