Fried in Seattle

July 6th is National Fried Chicken Day.  Yes, we all know fried foods aren't good for us, but who doesn't like an old-fashioned chicken dinner, served up with fresh corn, biscuits and potatoes?

We're getting fried and smoked in Seattle.  June was the hottest month on record, and so far every day in July has been over 90 degrees. Another hot one coming up today.  Independence Day (92 degrees) was the hottest here in 124 years of keeping records.  It's pretty murky out, too.  We're being hit with a large plume of smoke from wildfires burning in British Columbia.  The haze is making for some spectacular sunrises, along with our bleary eyes.  Sleepless in Seattle. 

The standing joke used to be that summer doesn't start here until after the Fourth of July.  Ha! Not this year. On the bright side, the dahlias are ready to bloom and I ate the first cherry tomato yesterday.  It feels more like late August than early July.

Summer Sun
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.