Tuesday, June 7, 2011

The great gig in the sky

The other morning, before my mind went from hazy dreaming to mildly awake I could feel something hit my face. It startled me, but not enough yet to lift my eyelids to confirm what I was thinking. Could it be? And, this early in the morning? Where was the familiar greyness that slips through the cracks in the curtains and into my soul?  Yes. It was the sun. Let me back up a little and tell you how much I have missed this dear friend. Here in the pacific northwest sunshine is like free heroin. People get giddy and crazy over it as they stampede over each other to flock to the nearest beachy bliss and grab for flip flops at the mere mention of 60 degrees. Eager beavers, that's all we talk about for weeks. Clothing is scant at 68 degrees and coffee goes iced at a weak 70. It's like turning on the chipper switch in people when the sun peeks out, and the grumblies melt away.

 I slid hopped out of bed, grabbed my fleece robe out of habit, bypassed the granola calling my name from the kitchen and went strait for the door to bask on the deck. The rays beat down on my skin as it slurped up vitamin D and I shed off my robe. I didn't need it. Sunshine, I love you. It takes a certain person to shoulder the northwest weather, and I am pretty certain I am not that person a good slice out of the year. I have lived here all of my thirty-something years and each year I am surprised I have survived yet another year here without my brain molding from the constant dampness. The grey pillows that crowd out the sky eight months out of the year reluctantly start to part around June and let the sun spill out creating fantasmic sunrises, blue skies with hours that mash together, and sunsets that bow out with a bang, creating dancing crazy purple and pink light across the backdrop of her majesty Mt. Rainier. Oh, sunshine, our affair has only just begun. Now is when those months fade like a bad memory and the trance of summertime activity hold my gaze.

This was our first 65 degree day this year. Yup, time to break out the sprinkler.

 In just a few short weeks school will be over and Gracie and I will slide into a new routine, one where clocks and hours don't matter,where the day is based solely on the position of the sun, and which side of the Island we want to play on.

Fern Cove, one of our favorite summer hangouts.

The Garden will bloom and the choirs will sing and beach towels will take over our porch and dinner will be dined outside every night. Fudgsicles always as the first course.

Now don't get me wrong, there are always a few sneaky days that ruin all the fun. When it rains in summer, I pull on a strained smile and try to shrug it off. Thank you weather, now I don't have to water the garden. Now, run along. 

Garden bounty last August. If you haven't heard, summer took a haitus last year so we are in sunshine debt, bigtime.

So, this summer, I will not take any sunny days for granted. I wait all year for it and it will not be spent cleaning, mopping, fussing, or taken over by checking facebook posts. If you happen by this little Island and see a sun worshiping, bikini clad, mojito drinking goddess planted in the padded lounger beside the pool, look past her, it won't be me. See that crazy chlorine haired, barefoot, full swimsuit wearin' fool spinning in the grass grinning up at the sun? Yes, you guessed it. That would be me.

No comments:

Post a Comment