Summertime, Summertime, Sum-sum-summertime

Muchachos!

The smell of sunscreen. Drippy condensation on

the rim of every cup. Sleeping without covers. Crisp, juicy watermelon. Dewy skin. Hair frizzy from the pool.

Summer is here.

After probably a month straight of overcast, muggy, um disappointing weather, we have had almost a we

ek straight of almost insufferably beautiful sun. At work, every time someone walks through the sliding doors and a sultry gust of humid hotness dances in, everyone in the produce department hovers around the thermometers and the sprouts, biting their nails, 'Oh God and what about the mushrooms!". And at the end of the day, they are just mushrooms and we STILL get a wicked summer.

Matt and I hiked the Chief on Wednesday which was soooo fun! Matt's still sore and walking like he pooped his pants. My legs aren't too sore but I still have sore, burned shoulders. We hit the peak on one of the hottest days we had had so far this summer and man did we feel it. Dipping down into the trees each time from the three peaks was a cool blanket on us.

We did the Squaw trail up the East (I thiiiink it's East), which is essentially a straight scramble up the side of the mountain. And we ran it. Of course we did, because we're first born, type-A, no-I-swear-I-can-do-it-heart attack people. But that was literally what it was like the entire way up.

We met some nice people, (and when I say 'met' I mean we borrowed a match from them or we offered them a bandage or a cigarette as they whimpered to catch their breath on the side of the trail)

and couldn't have had a better day for it.

This is Matt toying with the wildlife. It's like Hammy from Over the Hedge. Once you find high-fructose corn syrups, you can't go back.

We easily did it the hard way up AND down. The side with the peaks had all of these narrow channels, ladders

and chains (it was very BDSM, granola-style of course) and so taking that way down, when gravity's on your side and all was at times slightly... top heavy.

There is my wiiiiiidle husband way out there. The forests out here on the West Coast are powerful and dense like fur. And they are of a size that I have never seen before. The Golden Spruce, which is one of my favorite books ever, is written about the old growth forests on the West Coast, particularly the Pacific Northwest. John Vailant write about the trees in a way that takes my breath away, especially when you're in the midst of them.

This summer is a magical time and it's only just getting started. More sunburns and frizzy hair to go!