Last night it rained, an honest, garden-soaking, puddle-making rain. It hadn’t rained in 48 days. (Seattle’s record dry spell, set in 1951, was 51 days.) On the way out the door this morning, wrapped in coats against the newly-brisk air, my four-year-old cheerfully sang out our family’s frequent admonishment to her toddling little sister: “No boots, no puddles!” It suddenly felt like fall.
It’s as good a day as any to put on a pot of beans. Continue reading