Posts Tagged ‘weather’

Kurt R.A. GiambastianiI was torn.

It was 3AM, and I was torn between sleep and listening to an old friend. We hadn’t talked, hadn’t seen each other for 50 days, and for us, that’s a long time. Usually, hardly a week goes by without at least a chat. Sometimes we’ll lose track of the days and, especially in the summer, a month will pass us both, but soon, we always meet up. We might meet on the street, or when I’m out in the gardens, or, like today, I look out the window and realize my friend is out there. (more…)

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You do not know how close we came.

There’s a reason we all like that old joke:

What do Seattleites call the first sunny day after two days of rain? Monday. 

We like it because it’s true. If we’re going to have only two days of rain in a given week, they’re going to be on the weekend. (more…)

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Seattle Weathermen

No, I’m not talking about some grunge-infused radical splinter sect. I’m talking about weathermen, in Seattle. Okay, okay…meteorologists in Seattle. (Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? Let’s go with “weather-peeps” instead, shall we?)

I am firmly convinced that Seattle is where they send weather-peeps that have misbehaved. Take, for example, the opening for this weekend’s forecast from the KOMO News weather page:

July weather in Western Washington is usually quite straightforward. Not so this weekend: Our weather the next several days will be quite complex.

What follows is a lengthy description of upper-level lows and low-level highs, with predictions of sun, clouds, rain, thunder, and lightning, unless of course you happen to be on the coast, where there will be lightning, thunder, rain, clouds, and sun. Seems to me, if the weather-peeps need to hedge their bets like this, they should just be honest and say:

If you want to know what the weather is going to do, look outside.


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Seattle’s reputation for grey, rainy, dreary weather is well known.

I grew up in California, just north of San Francisco, so I know from dreary. In Sausalito, you can set your watch by when the fog rolls in, and that Humphrey Bogart movie set in San Francisco? The one with all the fog-filled streets and misty, noir nights? Well, they didn’t make that up. I also spent some time living in the Judean desert, even vacationed in a spot where it was literally 125°F in the shade. Each climate was integral to the locale; each city had been born there, and would have been out of place in any other clime.

When I moved to Seattle (a quarter-century ago), I knew what I was getting into. I love the rain, the overcast, the clouds, the drizzle. I love the “sun-showers,” the virga (go look it up), even the moss in my lawn. Seattle and I—we’re like that.

Other folks…not so much. And this year is one of those years that tries men’s souls and tests the patience of women. This is one of those years that sends Californian transplants running back south (which explains a lot about Portland, if you think about it) and makes even the hardiest PacNorthwesterner sign up for email alerts for flights to Arizona.

In short, this is a June-uary year, a year where summer looks like it will never get here.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a fan of summer. Summer is my least favorite season. I hate traveling in the summer; it’s crowded, hot, expensive, and, well, hot. To me, 73°F is a nice summer’s day, and (despite my time in Jerusalem) anything over 90°F is just evil-hot.

But this year has been exceptionally dreary. Our spring just plain wasn’t, and this June—a month known for “blue-tarp camping” and indoor-contingencies for outdoor weddings—has had maybe…maybe three nice days, all told. And that’s “nice” by my standards, not yours, so you get the picture.

But it’s part of who we are here, like finding two Starbucks catty-corner across from each other at an intersection, like finding seven kinds of IPA at the Safeway, like hearing the grind of studded tires in May even though there hasn’t been snow for months.

And I’m loving it. Saturday afternoon (June 23rd), I sat out on our deck (covered), wrapped in a big-shirt (fleece), sipping a cup of coffee (French-pressed), and listened to the birds sing and the raindrops fall. The cypress branches hung low like rain-heavy clouds and everything was clean and green and moist and beautiful.

Keep it coming, June-uary.


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