Wheat-straw Gold

It hasn't been a good week. Two days ago, the car wouldn't start. The battery was so drained it didn't even click.

We've had a lot of problems with the electrical system and the battery draining (but not the money to fix it), so we have a battery pack that'll give it a jump. Well, that got it up to clicking, at least.

We charged the battery pack up good, and I got up at the crack of dawn this morning (I've been wrenching my schedule around), sat there in the car for thirty minutes listening to Graceland while the pack charged the battery up. And finally, it started.

To top up the battery, I went to drive around the neighborhood for twenty minutes.

I live in a fairly pretty neighborhood. Mix of houses from all over the last fifty or sixty years, lots of odd turns and dead ends, a ravine with a creek, some really pretty places.

Seattle is famously green. The Emerald City. That's us. And the trees still around, and some people's gardens.

But with the wild heat waves we've had, every single lawn is burnt to wheat-straw gold. It's pretty, actually, if you can get past the perfect-suburban-velvet idea. And the evergreens and the occasional oak or elm or willow, still green, towering over those golden stretches.

If I'd had a camera, I'd've taken a picture. It was all so calm and soothing in the early morning.

And then the car decided to overheat, and my soothing morning was over.