Summer May Be Dead but the Weather Guy Believes

Sometimes the clouds look right back at you by Seattlest Flickr pool contributor liquidnight.

Steve Pool is promising eighty degrees by Saturday, but we know better than to hang our hopes on the emptiness that is a Seattle weather person’s five-day forecast. Just go outside, shit is cold. If summer is going to spring back into form like a sunny Lazarus, we won’t complain--but right now it’s taking more faith than us heathens can afford. Coming off maybe the wettest Bumbershoot in memory, this feels like an appropriate time to reflect on the summer in the past tense.

Notably, did we do any of the stuff we said we were going to do back in April when it too was wet and we were pining for the benefits of summer’s warmth? Did we get off our ass and go camping or catch any shows at the Gorge? Yes and no. We did camp--of course, it rained that weekend, but still, score it a triumph over laziness. The North Cascades ain’t Joshua Tree; it gets cold regardless of season and time of day.

On the concert front, we didn’t do Sasquatch or any mushroom-fueled jam band shit in Eastern Washington, but we can chalk some of that up to a lack of intrigue on our part. Besides, with Marymoor emerging as an increasingly viable draw for both gigs and concertgoers, we’re beginning to think good, outdoor summer amphitheatres aren’t just limited to the Gorge and that headache Shit River White River down South.

If you faithfully subscribe to the Church of Steve, we wholly endorse getting out this weekend before Mother Nature gets all moody and sets the sky to light monsoony and perma-grey. As for our cynical internal Farmer’s almanac, we have our doubts, and besides, the Seahawks are playing games that matter.

Translation: summer is dead to us.