Fireworks

It's here: The time of year that, around these parts, draws the crowds and puts us on the map. Certainly I look forward to summer, to sun and warmth and beaches, to biking and swimming and fruit in every color and green growing things everywhere. But at the same time, I sometimes feel bombarded.

For one thing, it's been HOT. We've had an onslaught of 90+ degree days, sun beating down, no rain, the grass turning brown and crisp underfoot, the air in the house still and heavy, a fan whirring all night long as we try to sleep on top of sticky sheets.
 

Hot dogs lounge in the dust bowl of our backyard.

Hot chickens enjoy dust-bathing in the same popular spot.

Add to that the sheer volume of people in town. Traffic surges, boats line up shoulder to shoulder in the bay, the beaches throng with people prone in the sand and splashing in the shallows, even the bike trails teem with riders.

On top of that, there are the sounds of what could almost be a war rather than a huge, explosive celebration. Fireworks snapping, crackling, and booming after the sun goes down. Concert speakers thumping as a searchlight sweeps across the sky. The dizzying midway in the middle of it all, with flashing lights, whirling shapes, shouts and screams. Parades with their horns and sirens. The air-show jets that seem to scrape the treetops as they pass directly overhead with window-rattling, deafening roars. Ahh, Cherry Festival.

Having watched the sky light up with colorful explosions lately, I noticed (while taking shelter in the relative peace of the backyard) that the summer garden is exploding with its own fireworks.

Bee Balm

Butterflyweed

Dill

Sunflower

The sunflowers are in full bloom, and we've already tasted the first of the tomatoes. Between the early spring and hot summer weather, we're weeks ahead of schedule.

However, the hard frost that followed summer-in-March decimated the cherry crop, so, while there were local cherries for Cherry Festival this year (not always the case), there aren't many. Farmers are reporting a 90% loss in the crop, with tarts hit worse than sweets. For a region that produces 75% of the nation's tart cherries, that's a big boom of a whole other kind.