Calendar pinups

I imagine most people’s June calendars have sunny beach scenes or images of warm people and gardens full of blossoms. I turn my calendar page, and there stands Little One in full rain gear (that’s boots, a coat, rain pants and a hat with ear flaps, for those of you who don’t live in a temperate rain forest), soaked to the skin and covered in a fine layer of sandy mud. Yes, folks, it is June, damp beginning of the clamming season in the Pacific Northwest.

Fishing Sensei has scheduled a muddy extravaganza to celebrate low tide next weekend, but alas, Number One son will be sawing away at his cello that afternoon, on a stage, which really does require our attendance. Not that it’s a hardship listening to his orchestra, but I admit hesitating a bit, recalling the heady aroma of fresh clam chowder made on the same beach where we dug the main ingredient. Mighty tempting.

The cat meowing loudly at the back door breaks my reverie. I look up and see a soggy mop that looks like it needs rinsing, and then realize she’s either fallen in the creek again, or it’s really raining. A peek through the open door verifies it is the latter, and I’m pretty sure I left the car window open last night. Just a crack, just enough.

Clearly, our plans to mow the lawn and clean the hot tub deck are on hold, and we won’t be dining al fresco any night this week. But I am glad we got the downspout fixed, some beds weeded, and the hanging baskets planted before the deluge. It is tempting to simply crawl back into our nest, where I suspect the covers may still be warm. I note that the cat has taken this approach. On the other hand, I think I have may some clams from last year in the freezer, just enough for a pot of chowder.