Weather Talk

 

Lake Chelan

Last weekend was all birthday shenanigans with friends and we ventured to Lake Chelan in search of the elusive sun.

We were sitting around the fire the first night --an assortment of friends, including a new friend who had recently arrived from Texas. The talk, as it often does, turned to the weather. Texas friend asked when he could expect summer to arrive and without hesitation, the two of the native Pacific North Westerners answered “July fifth!”

 

Unless July fifth falls on a weekend, I added. Then you can expect summer to arrive the following Monday.

I think he thought we were joking, but weather rules are a Thing. Everyone knows that in the Pacific Northwest—specifically eastern Lewis County—summer does not reliably arrive until after the first week in July. Odds are, July 4th will be a bit rainy, but as soon as we get it behinds us—full bloom summer. Unless July 5th falls on a weekend. If it does, the weather could remain rainy, but NO MATTER WHAT-- the sun is guaranteed to come out on the first Monday after the 4th of July holiday. IT’S A RULE. NO RAIN AFTER JULY 5. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT.

Oh, sure—sometimes Mother Nature forgets and summer arrives off-schedule. Take last summer, for example, when we experienced a phenomenal heat wave in June, with temperatures over the 110* mark for multiple days. Glaciers melted, rivers raged and ice cubes were the new currency. 

This year, we’ve had MayVember weather—instead of sun and heat, we’ve had rain and more rain--cold rain that made opening day of Gardening Season seem unattainable, and sunshine seem like it was something we don’t do anymore...

But my weather app on my phone promises that by the time you are reading this, summer should actually act like summer. Break out the sunblock!

"Je Suis Prest"

"I am ready" 
(for you non-Outlander fans)

The Summer that Wasn’t

Welcome to September! I don’t care what the calendar says about the official start of the season but Fall is in the air-- can you feel it? The nights are cooler, the sunshine seems to have more shadows in it and the sun doesn’t have the same bite.

It doesn’t really feel like we had Real Summer though, as so many of my summer traditions were put on hold in the interest of public safety.

In Packwood, we are used to celebrating both ends of the summer with a huge, outdoor Flea Market. The biannual event brings tourist-- vendors and visitors fill the town, parking is at a price and come Monday, there won’t be a loaf of bread left on the grocery store shelf. Well, maybe the low carb, high fiber kind made from sawdust and broken promises, that nobody likes---but all the Good Bread will be history. Good for local business, bad for sudden cravings of grilled cheese.

In addition to the Summer bookend events, I’m used to watching the Loggers Jubilee Parade, while simultaneously exploiting my cute grandkids as candy magnets. Since I still have half a bag of purloined candy left over from last year’s event, I considered driving thru Morton in the middle of the night and sprinkling candy over the sidewalks and along the gutters—as though some sort of Ghost of Parades Past had visited the town.

Then I got into an argument with myself about litter and creating a public nuisance and spawning at least three dozen different conspiracy theories as to the origin and purpose of the candy and never got around to implementing my plan.

 I like helping serve at the Fireman’s beef BBQ—my job is either Jello scooping, condiment dispensing—do you want sour cream with that? Or—at my last promotion-- assistant back up to corn-on-the-cob conveying. "We need more butter over here!" All key roles, to be sure.

Then there’s the Rod Run, noting all the cool cars that their owners so lovingly display and wondering how cool would it be to go for a Road Trip, convertible top down, hair blowing in the breeze, the smell of fresh cut hay scenting the air...

No Fair this year, with its cotton candy and 4H animals, no midway with the lights and motion and screams, no crowing at the chickens in the chicken barn, and eating scones—scones are THE BEST FAIR FOOD EVER, amirite?

Summer of 2020 is now officially in the books, before it ever got out of the blocks. We will keep wearing our masks, and social distancing, and looking forward to a Real Summer in 2021-- with all its events and assorted glories.

In the meantime, might I suggest you go make yourself a s’more? Because that is one summer tradition I’m still hanging on to.   

Ding Dong Ditch 2

 My straw bale garden has been growing and growing, and I am in full on harvest mode—desperate to off-load produce onto unsuspecting friends and neighbors.

Unfortunately, most of the people I know are in a similar situation and the search for produce-receptive people has become rather competitive.

I had lamented my lack of victims—er, my lack of “recipients” on Facebook, and a couple of friends messaged me with various “someones” they believed would welcome piles ‘o produce—specifically zucchini. 

I know, I know-- I too, found it hard to believe that such people existed, but desperate gardeners are not about to look at a miracle too skeptically, so when I was informed that a such willing person existed RIGHT DOWN THE ROAD from me, I immediately loaded up a brown paper bag with zukes, put on my mask, and headed over.

Now, the more suspicious among you might assume the mask was to hide my identity but I assure you, this was not the case. I was just trying to do my part to mitigate any possible virus transmission; the fact that I’d be harder to ID in a police line-up was only a secondary consideration.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t worked through the entire produce delivery scenario in my head. And when my neighbor opened the door to my rather quiet knock I wasn’t quite prepared, and panicked. Do I just thrust the bag into her arms and run? Was I supposed to have put the produce on the porch, then ring the bell? Wait—was I supposed to set fire to the bag first?

While these and other thoughts zipped thru my brain, I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Luckily for me, my neighbor is a very kind person and she not only accepted the zucchini, she invited me to sit on the porch and have a visit—at the approved socially-distant distance, of course.

Embolden by this success, I will admit that it has been over 48 hours since I last shined a spotting scope on my garden...What could possibly happen that my newly acquired delivery skills wouldn’t be equal to the task?

Hubris. 

I haz it.

Weather Rules: 2020 Edition

I don’t make the rules. 

Apparently.

My understanding of the weather was that it followed certain basic patterns—rules, if you will.

Rule #1: It starts raining in earnest in November and does not stop until April.

Rule #2: The prior rule maybe superseded by periods of snow.

Rule #3: The rains, from April to July, turn to showers and may be periodically interrupted by the sun. Or snow.

Rule #4: Summer—warm to hot, day after day of sunshine, no rain—you know, SUMMER? Summer begins on July 5^th—unless July 5^th falls on a weekend, then summer begins on the following Monday and runs—WITHOUT RAIN—until the second weekend in August, (Logger’s Jubilee, for the uninitiated) which **may** have a shower or two. THOSE ARE THE RULES.

Imagine my dismay to find Mother Nature flagrantly flouting this time-honored tradition! What use are rules, if she’s not going to follow them? Why was I so stoic all thru June, if not to be rewarded with WALL TO WALL SUNSHINE in July? How will I grow enough zucchini to menace my friends and family?

Last week, I started wondering if maybe we shouldn’t unplug Mother Nature, count to ten, and then plug her back in. Something was clearly WRONG. Since I didn’t know where her power cord plugged in, I had to settle for percussive maintenance, and stomped around, muttering under my breath.

That seems to have worked—based on all the happy little sunshine icons my phone weather app is now showing me for the foreseeable future. You’re welcome. But it got me to thinking—perhaps I should run as an alternative candidate to Mother Nature? I’m mildly qualified—I’m a mom, I love nature, except for the part where the mama lion eats the baby gazelle. Or the part where she **doesn’t** and then goes back to her starving babies. Clearly, that part needs improving. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.

Oh, sure, if I get the job I know I’ll have to put up with people complaining all the time; “Snow, I love snow, more snow.” Or “I like it cooler, could we take the temperature down a few degrees?” Or “Last week was perfect, can we just have last week all the time?”

Fine. If you like your weather, you can keep your weather, I promise. But for the rest of us—I’ll just lay out some Weather Rules, and since we all know what to expect—NO COMPLAINING.