Can't trust that day.

Stock Photo of Mountain - Just an Example

It's starting to prepare to begin to intimate that possibly, spring is just around the corner. That's all to say, it's almost possible to mistake our current April weather for some kind of change of season, i.e.- Spring.

The morning started with a good strong easterly sunlight filtered through the Douglas Firs in the backyard and then the weather report spoke of temperatures in the mid-50's and that the chance of cold, miserable torrential rains was minimal (but not nonexistent). That, of course, led those with weak minds and poor memories (and newcomers) to raise their hopes that, like the muddy groundhogs of planet Waterworld, we had finally emerged from our eight months of soaking precipitation and would be given a chance to repair or replace our Blue-Tarps and that the welcome warmth of old Sol would bathe our wounds and dry our foot-rot. But the rest of us know better. We know that until the Ides of June there's still a good chance of light rain mixed with gray drizzle and occasional blinding tempests that could last for two to three weeks with intermittent sunbreaks.

As a matter of fact, the official designation for summer in Southwest Washington is "Occasional Persistent Sunbreaks" (OPS). We here accept it because it makes catching a glimpse of the mountains that we live among an ever-new and shocking experience. There really is no sucha thing here as getting used to living next to the majestic beauty of 14000+ foot snow-capped peaks, because we see them only slightly more often than we see a full solar eclipse. It's easy to spot someone who has lived here for more than a few years because they rarely look in an upward direction. Long term residents have learned there is generally nothing in the sky worth a face full of cold water.

Still, it's the hope of a clear sunny breezy day that stays our hands from reaching for the sleeping pills or fashioning nooses from our bedclothes. A single beautiful unexpected warm day here is worth many weeks of endless, droning, dun-colored weeping skies. I suspect most of the impact comes from the contrast between the standard fare and those occasional "sunbreaks." They are really something unique to the fair lands of Southwest Washington and I wonder if I'll see them again this year. I hope so.

More later,