You go through summer and after about the 15th 90 degree day it starts to feel like it's never going to end. People bitch when it's not summer yet, and then the heat drives us to bitch that we've had too much of it.
In the peak of the dog days of summer, the first signal of the impending sweet spot of the year is a cut wheat field. The green stalks of winter wheat have morphed to gold and the combines that roll up and down the rolling wheat fields of Eastern Washington to me are better than any weather forecaster in predicting what's coming.
Steelhead are arriving in a trickle and hopefully soon in a flood. The scent of pheasants, chuckar and quail will soon be in our dogs noises. Bucks begin to shed their velvet. A little football doesn't hurt either.
Yes, the cut wheat field is a beautiful sight around town and in the rolling hills of the Palouse. It signals to me my favorite time of year.
Get our there and have some fun.
