Summertime

Allow me to set the scene.

It's late afternoon on a Saturday. A few people are over listening to the ballgame. The grill is firing up some freshly charred goodness, to be placed between a bun.

Ah, summer. What a glorious time of year.

If only the weather weren't so much like mid-spring. Come on. It's 65 degrees and mostly cloudy.

But this is the Northwest, so I guess people get used to it. (This is, of course, not to say that it never gets that way - it's been plenty hot, but not consistently for days on end.)

But why am I complaining? I'm a New Yorker, so to me, "summer" translates to "100 degrees, 100 percent humidity, the 3 o'clock thunderstorm, and enough ruined shirts to last a lifetime."

I guess I could do without it. Yeah, I could.

Bring on the burgers, and get outside!

Is The Grass Greener On The Other Side?

Well, yes and no. It really depends which side you choose.

I'm fresh off a short vacation in which I covered all three Pacific Northwest climates: The constant gloom that haunts the Pacific coastline towns of Oregon (west of I-5), the dry oven that bakes south-central Washington (east of I-5), and the pleasant weather stuck in between (anywhere on I-5).

Of course, this is only true during the period of time commonly accepted here as "summer", as the definition that I was brought up on (summer is Memorial Day to Labor Day on the East coast) doesn't seem to apply here.

Especially on the North Oregon coast, where the weather was startlingly reminiscent of what I've come to expect of late September or early October, even despite the warm temperatures. It was a little difficult to enjoy the natural beauty of the dramatic Pacific coast in thick fog and mist.

Or in the Cascades, which have clearly been baking in high and dry weather for quite some time, despite the patches of snow at the Mt. St. Helens observatory some 4,300 feet above the sea level I had just driven up from. (For the record, the views there are spectacular and give pause to the incredible power of the events of 1980, but I was very glad to get the heck down from there and back on the highway. I'm not afraid of heights; I'm just not used being in open space quite so high up.)

The drive west on Oregon Route 6 through the Tillamook (rain)Forest was a lush dark green, through to the quaint little town of Tillamook. Washington Route 504 from Castle Rock up to the Mt. St. Helens observatory at Johnston Ridge (52 miles of rolling hill climbs - my '99 Taurus is a tough little trooper) was different, through high forest of a lighter shade of green. And I must not forget the crown jewel of the city of Portland, the overwhelmingly gorgeous International Rose Garden for which the city is nicknamed, although green grass faces some tough competition from the bright hues of the roses. (In full bloom right when I visited, no less. July 4th was the right day for it.)

Here in the Northwest, it really is greener. But there's a catch: I miss out on my favorite time of year, Autumn in the Northeast. Here, the green just keeps going. Back east, the leaves on trees explode into hundreds of reds, yellows, and purples, all at the same time when September blows in. It's natural beauty in its own right.

It may not be a towering mountain range that dominates the landscape there, but that's not what people go to see.

So is the grass greener on the other side?

That all depends on what side you started on.

If These Roof Shingles Could Talk...

...they might ask for an umbrella. And a wind breaker. And a parka. And not nearly frequently enough, some suntan lotion.

This is my first summer in the Northwest, so I'm entirely unaccustomed to the fact that spring doesn't really end here until well into late June and that it's light out until well past 9pm.

But the oddities haven't been confined to this part of the country - it's everywhere. Here's some highlights:

- Record cold in Western Washington including several inches of SNOW in the Cascades, stranding three (understandably) unprepared hikers on Mount Rainier (one of whom didn't make it - may he rest in peace and my thoughts and prayers go out to the family and loved ones)

- Wisconsin and Indiana have become a very large, very unfortunate aquarium resulting from damaging rainfall and subsequent flooding with more rain on the way.

-A massive heat wave, one of the earliest on record, took on most of the Eastern seaboard and has broken since.

So, it's been an interesting last 7 days or so. I'd rather be in cool and damp than hot and humid - anyone who has experienced the dog days of summer at any length on the east coast will surely agree with me.

But what happened to June? It's one of those months that is supposed to be warming, and a foreshadow of the summer to come. If this June is any indication, it's going to be a long, cold, dark summer.

I'll admit that the weather here takes some getting used to, and I've been okay for the most part. The real big change is that the seasons are fundamentally different - rainy and dry seasons that change when they want to versus clearly defined spring, summer, fall, and winter.

And having come back west from a short break on the east coast well prepared for warmth and abundant sunshine, I find myself turning the heat on in the house and wearing sweatshirts all day.

Barbeques? Sunshine? Sports? Lounging around?

Only in my wildest dreams...