This week has been, well, hot. Not as hot as Zambia or Malawi on a November afternoon before the rains start, or a muggy evening by the Great Dismal Swamp, but for western Oregon, pretty gosh darn hot. All around us people are moaning and wilting and slowly dribbling themselves into pathetic puddles on the soft pavement. And it is a bit embarassing to have to say that actually, we don't mind it. We're not running around at 4 in the full sun, and the fans go up in the windows as the sun sinks down. But it cools off so blissfully at night. And for the first time, the water spraying out of the hose feels good, not chilly. Which leads to a whole lot of this:
Tomorrow leads to a young lady turning 12. We will celebrate at the Coast with a tea party picnic and grandma and probably more sand dune sliding and fish and chips. Summer is glorious. More soon.