It’s my understanding that the rest of the country is mired in heat. Here in the PNW-Pacific Northwest, we had our first day of actual spring. Prior to yesterday we had 5 HOURS of 70 degree temperatures for the whole of 2022. Hey, we know how to live. But yesterday it got all the way to 75.
I know, right?
I’m sure the rest of the sweltering country just shakes its head, but, believe it or not, June-uary, as we call it, is the worst time of the year. Why? Because it’s been a long gray wet 9 months. And we’re tired of it!
Sure, everyone is sorta miserable in January—maybe not in the south (I personally run away to Arizona)—so it’s not so bad. But June, when it’s nice, or nice and hot, we’re mired in “when” summer might show up. And maybe every once in a while we get a long summer; I know we had one in 1988, but mostly, we huddle and curse the sky and the clouds till the 5th of July, when summer traditionally come around.
The only question typically is whether the 4th will be cold and miserable before the clouds part, or whether the great God of the Pacific takes mercy on us and throws a little sun our way early. And I say the great God of the Pacific because like everyone along the west coast, we are at the mercy of the Pacific. Ours, up north, has been an unusually cold and wet spring, while the south has been hot and dry, watching its water reserves diminish.
Probably not good long term, but I’ll whine about that later.
Today, I stare at the clouds and hope the phone is right and summer is here. That might be true, or in a few days the weather changes and swamp us. It has before. Tomorrow, because I long to believe, I’ll pull the covers from the table and chairs on the deck in anticipation of good things to come. I’ll clean my nearly 40-year-old BBQ, maybe, in the belief that soon the burgers and steaks and shish kabobs will be a cooking, while I let the evening pass with a cool refreshing beverage.
Good times.
Hopefully…
Soon…
Maybe…
P.S. Reportedly, it will be 90 on Monday, which around here is the equivalent of 110. If we don’t make it, have a great summer, whatever that means now.
©2022 David William Pearce
David William Pearce, Writer 