Spring in Seattle, is not an event...it's a Quest.
Rarely below freezing here, the long winters nevertheless enfold us in a damp, silvery blanket of
obstinate chill which sometimes doesn't depart much before June. Many newcomers remain perpetually
huddled over furnace vents or crouched near fireplaces...at least for the first year...and I'm told
depression is endemic to this particular cranny of Western Civilization. I don't find it so, but then
I am perversely fond of the chill and the reserved pewter overlay of light bouncing up off the Sound
of an afternoon.
The last days of calendar winter are marked by hordes of desperate, hollow-eyed gardeners clutching
pots of ornamental Kale and Primroses, or standing wistfully in front of bright seed racks in the myriad
garden centers around the city. Many devote living space to flats of seedlings planted in touching faith
that late March will see them ensconced in sunny outdoor beds despite decades of evidence to the contrary.
March has its days, to be sure, but they are gems enhanced by the austerity of their setting and by the
magnifying effects of anticipation.
When true spring finally arrives,(and be aware this may not happen until mid-May) it's like being beamed
inside a Maxfield Parrish painting. In a reflexive tidal surge, we come out of our dens to gather at
Greenlake, the U-Dub Arboretum, Pike Place Market or any of a hundred other commons to glory in pearl
clouds and sapphire sky. True, the sapphire sky frequently showers our upturned faces, but we're already
wet and it's of little consequence.
Summer starts on July 5th. Just as it's hardly ever actually cold in Seattle, it's seldom hot either. If
it gets to ninety or above (which may happen two or three days every year) we begin to gasp like beached
fish. We have few of the amenities of summer, such as crickets and fireflies, but neither do we have many
penalties, such as mosquitos and air conditioning induced sinusitis. Between the latitude and Daylight
Savings, it doesn't get entirely dark until about nine-thirty p.m. or so. By mid-July, the city may be
enveloped in a brownish haze, but I suspect this is mostly barbeque smoke.
Autumn begins to creep in during early September. It's not especially noticeable to most people, I think,
but I pay attention to these things. I love Fall, and as soon as the Madrona trees in the small patch of
woods up our hill begin to show a few yellow leaves, I start thinking about hot cider and pumpkin bread.
The nights are often cool enough by then to build evening fires in our wood stove. It signals the beginning
of a dependency which will last well into May or even longer. The gathering and curing of wood is a year-long
obsession with my husband, and he's been known to bring home Cottonwood (which is dense, perpetually damp,
evil smelling and smokey) and conked fencing in his neverending search for burnables.
RE: Winter...I miss the snow.
(This having been said, let it be noted that on February 15th through about noon on the 16th, we had nearly
eight inches of very wet snow dumped 'pon our heads. It's mostly gone now, but I'd like to announce that
the Donegal Rowdy held us personally responsible for it and refused to walk any further than the wisteria
arbor for several hours.)
MYTHS
1. It rains all the time in Seattle.
No it doesn't. It rains frequently in Seattle,but the actual measurable rainfall is less than that
recorded for New York City. What we have that they don't is constant gray skies, brief showers interspersed with persistent, penetrating mist
which makes our clothes and bedding clammy, but which doesn't add much to the annual precipitation figures.
This is a clear illustration of the difference between theory and reality, regardless of the pathetic
protests by the Chamber of Commerce. It doesn't rain all the time here, but it might as well.
2. Only tourists use umbrellas.
Okay, this is both true and false. People who work in offices downtown have umbrellas. Sometimes as many
as six or seven over the course of a year, because they lose them on the buses or in cafes. The ones
who don't lose umbrellas are the annoying souls who open them when they go outside and leave them open,
regardless of whether or not it's actually raining and even if they're walking under long canopies over
the sidewalks. For most, the constant opening and closing becomes so tiresome, they carry them tucked
under their arms during momentary downpours and forget to take them when they exit any kind of shelter.
The rest of us wear ridiculous hats.
3. Everybody has a garden.
Not true. Many of us just have wild Blackberry vines, Bind Weed, Elderberry and volunteer ferns surrounded by
fencing and patrolled by slugs. The basic situation here is not how best to grow things, but how to keep
things from growing. I once stuck some freshly cut apple twigs in the ground to mark off a
vegetable garden, and they sprouted before the onions did.
4. Seattle is on the West Coast.
We're about a hundred miles inland, actually. We're located on Puget Sound and surrounded by smaller bodies of water.
The Olympics separate us from the ocean, and the Cascades from the dry, plainish geography of Eastern Washington. When
it's possible to view them, the mountain ranges are spectacular, as is Mt. Rainier rising in solitary
splendor about seventy miles to the south. The cry, "The Mountain is out!" is kind of a Seattle hymn and
brings us to the tops of hundreds of hills to catch a fleeting glimpse.
However, as one of my beloved sisters-in-law once remarked, "I was told I'd never see anything like the mountains here,
and sure enough...I was here for months and I never saw anything like a mountain."
Answers To Unasked (But Obvious) Questions
I don't know exactly where Bill Gates lives. I think the mansion is over there ::::waving a vague hand in
the direction of Lake Washington:::somewhere. He doesn't know where I live, either.
Yes, almost everybody was upset about Ken Griffey, Jr. leaving.
Yes, almost everybody was upset when the Rainier Brewery closed.
Blowing up the King Dome was FUN!
There are indeed Orcas in the Sound.
I have no idea what a Skinny Latte is. My South Bend, Indiana ancestors would spin in their graves if I
ever paid $2.50 for a cup of coffee.
I nodded off during my one attempt to watch "Sleepless In Seattle".
The Underground Tour is NOTHING WHATSOEVER like it's portrayed in the movie, "Nightstalker", so don't get
your hopes up. Unless you're a history buff, it's main attraction is darkness, a mildewy/urinish odor and
significant runs in pantyhose from climbing over chunks of concrete.
It's true...we don't want you to move here, no matter how friendly we seem. We like you, but stay in
Los Angeles!
