Gray Skies, Nothing But Gray Skies

I have a consistent weather pattern. Every year when March rolls around, I strongly question our decision to move from Hawaii to the Pacific Northwest. Even though I know what we were thinking, WHAT were we thinking?

               I’m so weary of gray rain and chronically soggy pant hems I can barely muster the energy to be annoyed. In true northwestern style, I don’t carry an umbrella, and lately I don’t even pull a hood up over my head. I just keep my nose down and slog from car to building, building to car through the damp wetness that only an earthworm could love.

Why even bother listening to the weather forecast? Big surprise, it’s going to rain. Five day forecast: more rain, and possible flooding. Ten day forecast:  some more rain. You can call it showers, drizzle, precipitation, it’s still rain.

               Am I exaggerating how many rainy days we’ve had lately?  A little online research confirmed what I’d thought in a twisted glass more than half full, pretty much overflowing way. In March, there were 28 days of rain, 2 days were mostly cloudy, and 1 rebellious day was partly cloudy, mostly sunny. February was actually better: 11 days of rain, 6 days of snow, 7 cloudy days, and 2 sunny days.

Mt. Rainier is invisible, airbrushed gray out of the landscape. Our lawn is more moss than grass. Washing the car is an exercise in futility. Judging by the amount of daylight, it could be 10 in the morning or 2:00 in the afternoon. There's no difference, but the rain is constant. It’s like living in an aquarium.

               Inevitably at this time, my (and everyone else’s) thoughts turn to places with better climates, with more sunshine. I don’t even need a lot of sunshine, but a third of a month’s worth would be nice. There’s only so much Vitamin D, and full spectrum light bulbs can do. This calls for more drastic measures—March vacations in sunny destinations, or moving. It’s a little shocking that when the clouds disappear, and Spring finally comes there are still people here to witness it.

               We’ll see if my drooping, wilted spirits lift again when the daffodils pop up, and the rhodies start blooming. The cherry trees are trying to smile through the rain with their pink blossoms, but so far their petals have been knocked carelessly to the ground by the wind and rain drops. Maybe by the summer, my March gloom will be faded and forgotten. In the meantime, these are the times that try this woman’s soul.

Laura Keolanui Stark is scanning Washington’s solid gray skies for evidence of the sun. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.