It’s 48 degrees and pouring rain as I type, and the last few nights were in the low 30’s. Trees remain leafless. According to the calendar, tomorrow is the first day of spring. Here in the Pacific Northwest, this is pretty much what passes for it.
And yet, there are signs. The grass is growing–I just finished mowing up at the farm before this latest deluge hit. And Skyla spotted the first bright pink salmon berry flowers yesterday. Only a few, but they’re coming. With alders in “bloom,” we’ve been sneezing to beat the band, too.
So maybe it really is spring. It just doesn’t look like it, unless you look really closely. But we’re ready.
This long and unseasonably dry Indian Summer helps make up for a cold, wet spring that lasted into July. September was the the third driest in history here, and August was the driest ever. Wildfires still burn across the eastern half of the state. But in spite of day after day of gorgeous, bluebird skies, we can feel the earth tipping away from the sun. Suddenly, it’s getting dark noticeably earlier, and my office is chilly in the morning.
Will there be enough heat to ripen the last of the summer tomatoes? Stacy’s already bringing them in green to ripen on window sills, and the late harvest has created a welcome–and unexpected–abundance. Fresh salsa and spaghetti sauce after all! Now, if we can just get the last of the wood into the shed this week, I think we’l be ready.