The rain has returned to the Pacific Northwest once again. In the cool, crisp early morning air, I stood on the balcony outside my office in complete darkness and looked out over the campus and the valley stretched out before me. For a brief moment in time, the sky cleared enough to see a cheshire-grin moon and gave me a glimpse of the stars in all their glory. I glanced up, thinking "hello there stars... nice to see you. Have a great winter and spring. We'll see you again in June."
My exaggeration is only slight. There will be many, many, many rainy early mornings between now and next summer and while I feel as if I must complain in some small way, the truth is I wouldn't live here if I didn't actually enjoy the rain to some degree.
And I do. I think everyone does, or they don't last here.
But the Pacific Northwest rain is like an old, dear friend you haven't seen in quite awhile. When it first makes its appearance you are so excited to see it. It is familiar. It makes the warmth of your surroundings cozy. With it comes indulgence in hot, steaming coffee and teas, warm and hearty winter stews, warm jackets and hats and beautiful handknitted scarves, nights spent in front of a roaring fire.
After awhile though, its irritating qualities begin to encroach upon the good and you recall just what used to bother you about said friend. It doesn't make you love them any less, but you realize the honeymoon is definitely over and you are ready for the sun to make its appearance once again.
This generally happens for me sometime in February, though it could be earlier depending upon the length of time we've gone with no break in rain. I believe the longest I've experienced is 28 days of straight rain. No break. No periods without it. Just rain, rain, rain.
And on this, I am not exaggerating.
When I first moved here, I imagined the rain to be a misty sort, the kind you see in Hamburg or London or perhaps even Seattle. Imagine my surprise when my first fall and winter seemed like a monsoon. Pouring, pouring, incessantly pouring rain. I'll admit I was mildly taken aback.
But I adapted and eight years later, I am still here. I can't see myself ever leaving. Oregon is glorious, beautiful, and wild where every possible athletic activity is available year round. Portland is weird, laid-back, cultural, green, alternative, a sea of fantastic restaurants, a microbrew and wine mecca, a haven for cyclists.
This place is often called a spiritual vortex. Those who are lost, find themselves here.
I certainly did.
