Hard not to talk about the weather when it is so weird. The electric smell to the air on Saturday evening brought back my childhood memories of lightning and thunderstorms in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. One summer the storms happened every afternoon for two weeks straight. This became a bore for my parents in that they had to rush all the cushions and other summer props into the cabin.
But I loved the light and sound as it moved up the river canyon, getting so close and loud, and then passing on. Afterward, the sun shone so brilliantly, the pine needles glistened with fresh wetness, and all was dry in time for the evening campfire and marshmallows.
Well, here the squall came through in the late afternoon, but I never heard any thunder, in spite of all the electric smells in the air. And yes, I hate to think about how many weddings and barbecues were damped down. Phooey, the month of August is "guaranteed" to be sunny and warm.
But then Sunday with its incessant rains, and then Monday with its record-breaking deluge - is this August? And just what is this all about? I asked one of my favorite farmers where the pumpkins were, and she agreed that it felt like summer was over and we were deep into the fall weather. She added that she just might as well plow under the melons and bring the young pumpkins to market now.
If you missed this past week's edition of The Seattle Time's Pacific Northwest Magazine, go online or ask a neighbor or go to the library during its grand reopening this Saturday. The magazine had a very well-done, in-depth article on all the current buzz about eating locally and supporting our dedicated farmers. And on the front cover was an over-the-top romantic/idealized picture of Siri Erickson-Brown of Local Roots Farm in Carnation. I have had the most wonderful conversations with her this year at the Queen Anne Farmers Market and the best pink radishes, the best early Brandywine tomatoes, succulent zebra-skinned tomatoes ... well, the list goes on. I love their stall with its cornucopia basket, designed to be seen from the Second Avenue West entrance. Each week the excessive profusion is greatly enlarged, reminding me that it is indeed the height of summer. It must be the month of August.
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