I always celebrate the Solstices, but this year, the Summer Solstice had me thinking about how fast time flies. How quickly the sun fades and the skies dim. Sunset in Oregon on Solstice is after 9pm; not as late as in the Eastern time zones, but no less enjoyable. At this time of year, an hour after sunset, a walk in the gloaming with the dog brings sights of hatchling garter snakes as they slither from green lawns across the sidewalk into the sheltering forests of parkway ivy. Bats swoop and sing their silent (to me) siren songs to mosquitoes and other winged snacks. With the first stars peeking out of amethyst skies, all is well and good.
Until it wasn’t. Last week, the sun decided to teach us all a lesson and the full strawberry moon and high pressure in the atmosphere aligned to bring the Pacific Northwest what will forever be known as the three highest temperatures ever recorded. A week ago, as an Oregon native, I snerked at the thought of plus-100 degree temperatures in June; I scoffed that “some weather models” were predicting highs of 114 to 117 degrees for this weekend. This part of Oregon just doesn’t get that hot. Fake news, right?
Until it wasn’t
Yesterday, the temperature in Beaverton and Portland and the surrounding areas hit 108 degrees, smashing the earliest recorded highs (and highest lows) in history for the area. Unheard of.
I daresay there were a LOT of folks last night that (like me) who don’t have air conditioning and had three fans going AND a dehumidifier. That’s right, this is Oregon, not Arizona–no dry heat for us; the humidity has been hovering around 55%. I stayed up until midnight, checking the deck thermometer every hour, waiting for the outside temperature to drop below the 86 degrees I had managed to maintain inside, but finally had to give it up and open all the windows.
When I woke up this morning at 5am, the inside temperature inside had dropped to 83. Outside temperature at 5am: 79 degrees. Oy.
The dog is hot. I am hot. All my friends in Oregon are hot. It’s hot.
So much for day 1 of a predicted 3-day event.
And today, Sunday is expected to be even hotter, with an expected record-smashing high of 114 degrees and and overnight low on the far side of 80 degrees. And after yesterday, I now believe it.
So here I am, at 11am on Sunday morning, sitting in a tee-shirt and shorts on a sunny summer day, while the windows are locked up and drapes shut tight. Temperature inside: 86 degrees. Temperature outside: 97 degrees and climbing. The weather stations have posted hourly forecasts as to how long this extreme heat event will last; On Monday at midnight, the temperatures are supposed to ease off to below 80 degrees.
Only 36 hours to go.
Spring arrived yesterday. It kind of snuck up on me this time. I know, it comes every year, but after this Year of Pandemic, and being cooped up and careful and socially distanced, I almost missed it.
Whether we accept it or not, we are (all of us) changed by the shared experience. Loved ones lost–to virulent virus, anarchy, corruption, and a wrenching of social and cultural convention. Darwinism is once again invoked, and those most able to adapt have survived.
We saved money on gas and entertainment outside the home, and that was good.
Hoochie mamma, what a year 2020 has been. So many unimagined events, so much atrocious behavior, stress beyond belief. Like slime from a dark lagoon, the sludge not only clung to us individually, but to our communities, our states, our nation, and the whole world.
FAVORITE NEW-TO-ME AUTHOR: I am always seeking out book or author recommendations at classes and conventions. Who better to ask for book recomendations than another author? In this case, the new-to-me author is Larry Watson, and the novel is 
FAVORITE CLASSIC: Every year, I make it a point to read a few classics–this year was no exception, and I happened to have an excellent stack to dig into. I read two Ursula LeGuin novels this year (I think I’ve read most of them now): The Lathe of Heaven, which was brilliant, and my favorite of the two, 
FAVORITE READ BY FAVORITE AUTHOR: Choosing a single work this year from such a plethora of great reads by my favorite authors is a good problem to have. Thing is, my tastes are pretty eclectic. I mean, how can you compare Theodore Sturgeon’s 
PS: Regrettably, I didn’t see Thor Ragnarok when it was in the theaters. But watching it at home this year, I couldn’t help but think the Led Zeppelin’s 1970 The Immigrant Song is the BEST theme song ever. Beats the Jaws theme by a landslide.
As I glanced out the window Thursday night, I was struck by the beautiful colors of a zinfandel-red sunset. I stepped out on the balcony for a better look, and could see a thin crescent moon adding it’s own illumination to the scene. It was so lovely, I had to stop and take a picture. I stood there for another 10 minutes, marveling that I could’t remember the last time I’d seen such a lovely sunset. An interlude of quiet joy.
The universe continues on. The earth turns. The sun rises and sets on another day. It’s not that things aren’t tough (or even horrible) for many, but we go on. As we must. There will be no single thing that will change things for all of us, so we must look a little harder to spot the small miracles happening all around us every day. Eventually, the momentum will turn, and as with the seasons, change will come.
Propaganda.
Other terms related to propaganda include hype and spin. Advertisers use it all the time; think the ‘Pepsi Challenge’ or ‘Where’s the beef? ‘ ads. The use of an admired actor or character to promote a product. Or taking a quote or data point out of context. Images (of happy families, national icons, or even puppies) can be used to imply a connotation or persuade the target audience that an idea is wholesome or patriotic. Even the media is often accused (by both sides) of being partisan, using the same set of facts to sway opinion.
It’s automatic; so ingrained in our culture, we don’t even think about it anymore, we just do it. Like saying “please” and “thank you”, it’s a learned reflexive response. In other words, it occurs after an association has been made. We associate getting into a vehicle with putting on our seatbelt. Our hands reach for the belt without deliberate intent, even though we don’t have brains in our hands.
The facemask pushback is not a new phenomena. I’ve travelled extensively in Asia where facemasks are the norm whenever someone is sick or sensitive to pollen (or smog). I didn’t like wearing it at first either. I found them bulky, uncomfortable and made it hard to breathe while wearing them. But after 19 weeks of practicing, I have found I can wear a face mask for as long as I need to, and feel safer when I wear it in public.
Over the years, my ‘books to read’ stack has grown from a pile to a stack to an entire bookshelf, and continued to grow until it has consumed several bookcases. And if pressed, I would admit to double-row stacking of said ‘to read’ books within the aforementioned bookcases.
Read faster, I tell myself. Stop buying more books until you’ve read the ones you already have. I justify my stash by saying that many of these books were gifts. Well, maybe not many, but definitely some. I’m a writer, after all Some day I will have my own ‘writing room’ again and I’ll line the walls with bookshelves and I’ll be able to spend my writing days surrounded by books. Words. Ideas. Inspiration.
And then along comes COVID-19. And stay at home orders. And looky here–I’ve got my very own private library of books I want to read, all in one place! I don’t even have to leave the house. Not only that, all the libraries are closed anyway, so who’s the smarty-pants now?
The first book I grabbed by by a new-to-me author, China Mieville, Kraken. It was good–the perfect magical escape. This morning I spotted a weighty 
