Rain: A Northwest Original

Rain. They were right, they being anyone who says to you, "It's rainy there," when you say, "I'm moving to Portland." I wasn't sure before moving here how the constant rain would feel to me: bitter? gray? wet? ugly? mystical? cold? depressing? rejuvenating? inspiring? calming?.

For the past week a pale gray haze descended upon us and the few deciduous trees, mostly intentionally planted by people along parking lots and public roads, lost leaves in an array of colors. I found myself, more than once, standing at the drive-thru window (not happy about being there) looking outside. I would lean over when no cars were nearby and look out across the target parking lot and around 7am the most beautiful glow would appear. The orange street lights would reflect off the wet pavement and the orange and red leaves scattered about and the gray hazy fog created a mystical silence.

The leaves are slowly being washed away by the rain and a soft wind that occasionally blows but the colors do not (and I imagine will not) disappear. This morning I stood out on my balcony, drinking my cup of coffee, and watched as a light rain fell and the wind pushed the evergreens from side to side. I have a most beautiful view of a small forest from my window and the balcony below it. The scene whispers calm. Even the sound of car wheels sloshing down the pavement does not disturb the peace of the pitter-patter of raindrops now falling on the roof above me.

So far, I'm okay with the rain, and once I get a more proper (and warmer) rain jacket I'll be ready for more.