I’m sitting in the middle of a thunderstorm in Seattle, contemplating the true meaning of “summer.” For Seattle kids, summer is this weird, spring-like, unpredictable series of months that don’t really have any other correlation outside of being consecutive.
PS – Closing your eyes and saying “Summersummersummersummersummer” and imagining beautiful, summer-y accessories does not make it warmer or less raining outside.
But here’s where my head was…
