In Quilcene, total sunshine for more than three days in a row (and I stopped counting more than three days ago) seems just a little, um, out of character.

Not really. It just takes a few days to get used to the glare, the dust replacing puddles on the roads. Trish and I have noticed a few things about Quilcene summers since our first one, 1979.  The hot weather was almost a shock after our first (and one of the coldest and snowiest) winter. Looking back (and some of these have changed), here are some things that happened or happen when the clouds part:

SLASH BURNS- Noting smoke in the finally-visible Olympic foothills, Trish pushed me to call someone to report it. “Who are you, again?” the Forest Ranger’s wife asked, obviously irritated at my ignorance. “Oh, yeah; and you’re new here, right? From California.” “Since, um, December. San Diego. Yes.” “Yes, we are aware.” I think she was aware of the fire AND of us.   

CARPENTER ANTS, WINGED TERMITES- For a few years we believed these suddenly-appearing flying, biting, stinging, swarming insects (and let’s include various sizes and variously-vicious flies, wasps, hornets) appeared in connection with, and probably involved escaping from, those slash burns.  Maybe the plague-like attacks are connected to the heat.

BICYCLISTS, MOTORCYCLISTS, RVers, WEEKENDERS, RELATIVES- We do get more visitors in the summer.  Some folks are just passing through, escaping higher temperatures elsewhere, hanging out at someone’s (or their own- with weekend guests) cabin, enjoying our area’s natural beauty and lack of traffic lights.

WATERFRONT- If we add up all the waterfront footage; saltwater, various lakes (and we do have Devil’s Lake AND Lord’s Lake in the greater Quilcene area) and streams, we have a lot of it. Some is accessible. Locals know that when Quil Bay’s mudflats heat up, and the tide comes in, folks can swim at Linger Longer without fear of imminent hypothermia. It is not, however, unusual to see tennis shoes as part of swimming attire. Oyster shells.     

HOOT-OWLING- When it gets HOT AND DRY in Quilcene; loggers, traditionally, worked the hoot-owl shift, making the most of long daylight hours before the woods are shut down.  I think it requires getting up really early for something other than fishing or surfing (I don’t fish, others do).

ALTERNATE HOOT-OWLING- What’s nice is one (and I mean me) can start working at noon and still get eight hours in. Or, maybe, work, siesta, try to go back to work?

“SUMMER-TIME, AND THE LIVING IS…”- Because the Hood Canal Bridge sank in February of 1979, and it took me thirteen and a half-hours away from home to work eight hours at the shipyard in Bremerton, I switched to graveyard shift. 10% more pay, eight straight hours; could get there and back in twelve. This required staging a car on the other side. So, one summer evening, Trish was dropping me off at Southpoint; we’re a bit early, and it’s hot; and I stick a tape in the eight trac. Janis Joplin starts wailing out a tune. Trish touches my hand, looks deep into my eyes, and says, “It’s too hot for Janis.”

HONEY DAYS- Here is a verse from a song I wrote:

Honey days, those sunny days; light so bright, and yet, a haze;                                                                            Bathed in amber, poured like glaze… on Honey Days… I remember.

I've included a sketch to go along with the song, to go along with summer.  Enjoy it now, remember it later.