I live in the Pacific Northwest. I have lived here always. The PNW, especially western Washington, is a place of exquisite natural beauty. When the sun shines with a crystal blue sky, everything below green green green, it takes my breath away. Still. After all these years. To maintain the green, however, we live with rain. Despite popular myth, it does not rain all the time. We do, admittedly, experience long periods of rain during the winter, which definitely become oppressive. 40F and 30 days of rain? Everything soaking and sopping, mildewing and molding, with a chill that stays? I don’t know even one native who would answer ‘Yes, please!’ The rain we’re having today, though, is welcome by me.
It is true that the enormous hydrangea out front needs to be shaken off periodically or lose branches to breakage; it is true that parts of our gutters do not behave, and though we use the collected water on a garden bed, parts of the porch roof are probably going to rot; it is also true that raspberry bushes hold lots of water and are happy to share that water with me when I’m picking; and most true of all, I don’t commute long distances everyday, nor do I call a cardboard shelter home. It seems like a luxury for me to enjoy the rain. One aside that never fails to surprise me, is how much rain it takes to actually water the plants. It is raining hard as I write this, perhaps Walter will refer to it as a ‘good old fashion soaker’, but the soil will most likely be dry just one half inch below the surface. A day of rain and I may still need to water.
While we don’t experience rain all the time, what we do have during the summer months is known as Marine Layer. This is a cover of cloud blown in from the coast which will usually hang around, the sun not burning through until 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Somedays the sun never burns through. Summers don’t get swimming warm with a marine layer in place. Perhaps this is why our reputation for rain all the time persists. Unfortunately, the days stay cool but dry, so the grass goes brown and the gardens wilt. Such First World problems, I know.
For today, though, I am grateful for my dry, cozy home. Grateful for a day of rest from gardening chores and expectations. I am happy to make soup for dinner, to watch the green get a free watering, happy for raincoats, boots, and umbrellas. I am also grateful for Homeless Shelters, and that Tent City finds new places to set up and that they have tarps. The rain reminds me of all that I have. Though meager in the eyes of some, having eyes to see What Is makes me the richest person I know.