There is a problem with all these sunny days in Oregon. I know, you’re probably saying to yourself “That’s crazy. How could sun be a problem?”
Well, here’s the problem. Sunny Summer days in Oregon are indescribably gorgeous and, since we do get a lot of rain and clouds and stuff much of the year, we Oregonians—and especially we Portlanders—spend a lot of time in the sunshine when it’s shining, which means that we aren’t getting other stuff done.
The sun comes out, what’s my first thought? I know. I’m gonna ditch work. I’m gonna go down to George Rogers Park, or Sellwood Park, or Willamette Park and catch some rays. I’m gonna call up Steve because Steve has a boat and I want to get out on the water and water ski or wakeboard. Or I’m gonna call up Ray and his family and Travis and his family and invite them over to hang out on my freshly stained deck while I prepare some delicious foods on my charcoal grill.
I want to do anything but work. Well, work at my job.
Here’s the other problem with sunshine: Outside chores and yard work. That freshy stained deck? Yep. Had to do that. That fresh smell of cut grass? Love the smell, but, you guessed it, I had to mow that darn lawn. The weed free yard? Yep, did that too—advantage there, though, are the fresh roses and tulips and their heavenly aromas wafting through the air.
The sun, even though it makes me want to skip out on my regular work, also makes a lot of work. But that’s okay, I’d rather be outside soaking up the sun and enjoying these great summers, because I know Fall and Winter are coming.
That begs the question: Have you been to Portland in the summer? Have you experienced the majesty of the ubiquitous blue skies, the beer and music festivals, the warm grass and the warm air, the refreshment of swimming in the river? This is life here in Portland and, say what you will about the rest of the year, we have great summers here. Maybe some of the best summers anywhere. And we get out and enjoy the them to the fullest. I’ve been other places—places where it’s nice all the time—and they waste these summer days. Not me. Not we Portlanders. We milk every lovely and glorious second.