I love a day when you wake up to the sound and smell of
pouring rain. A day reserved for pulling on a sweater and firmly planting
myself on the couch with a cup of hot coffee. I love that day when it’s in September,
or October, or any other old month except for July or August, for crying out
loud. It’s summer, in Seattle, and it’s July 23rd.
yourself explaining to newbies that the sun doesn’t actually make it’s grand
appearance until July 5th. That’s a fact. Once we’ve celebrated our
country’s independence we can count on a good 63 days of sun, give or take. We
look forward to it for months, right around January, if you’re me.
it’s drops lulling me to sleep at night, it’s the middle of summer in Seattle
and that means I want to wake up to sun. Birds chirping, sun beaming through my
dirty, hand-printed windows, summertime bliss. I want to feel every degree of
that sweltering 73 degree heat and wear some flip-flops without sloshing
through puddles. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.