Rainy, full of coffee, hippies and hipsters is a pretty typical description.
I often tell them that Seattle’s a little different than they imagine.
But sometimes, it’s not.
The other day I drove through the drizzling gray morning, wearing a polarfleece jacket, to drop our 11-year-old car off for some repairs.
I picked up a latte.
The shop lent me an aged Volvo while they worked on my car.
I turned on the radio as I got ready to drive home to my goats.
It was tuned to NPR.