In Praise of Rain in the Great North-wet: Damp Again and Loving it, Thanks

When the rains returned

the trees and I lifted our palms

in celebration.

A wee haiku to honor the weather gods’ sudden recall that our neck of the woods, the Pacific Northwest, is supposed to be dripping and soggy a good portion of the time. Instead, it’s been so dry this summer that even our rain forest caught on fire. We feel like we’re turning into California. (And California’s turning into Arizona. What, I’m afraid to ask, might Arizona be turning into?) In the past couple of weeks, taking my shoes and socks off after a run or a walk in the National Monument land behind my house has revealed filthy feet: the dust is ground so fine it seeps right through.

But now the rains are back!!!! Praise be!  Tiny grass points are already poking their way through the dust! And the reindeer lichen, crispy and fragile since May, is squishy again!

(orig. photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

(orig. photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

To all my friends suffering under the downpours of Hurricane Erika, my condolences. But I don’t feel your pain. I miss rain so much I can barely imagine–no, I can’t imagine–feeling negative about it.

Of course the place that needs precipitation most is the eastern half of Washington, suffering from the worst fires in our state’s history. We lost three good, young firefighters there. So, rain, I love you, but please, if you can, move east.  Then come back and stay a while.

And to my fellow Northwet-erners, a word of caution: I’m a nonviolent person, but if I hear anyone complaining about the rain in the next month or so, I’m going to feel like slapping some sense into that silly person.

Please let your weather thoughts, prayers, and propitiations rain down on me!

OMG We’re Marooned!!! Oh yeah–We Live on an Island.

Did you see us on the news last week? When the Interstate 5 Bridge got KO’d by an oversize load and went crashing down into the Skagit River? Thanks be to all the gods, no one was seriously hurt, so now we’re left to enjoy our shock and awe…and traffic jams.

SO amazing no one got badly hurt!!

SO amazing no one got badly hurt!!

And emails from friends and family around the country who are worried about us.

My dad sent me one with the heading, “Marooned?” That was it–no text. At first all that attention fed my dramatic soul. “Why yes, yes we are Marooned. Cut off. We too are victims of something terrible happening, we deserve our rare place in the national spotlight!”

Then I remembered. I live on an island. I don’t have to drive Interstate Five. And if I did, I know shortcuts through the farmland that won’t take me anywhere near the fallen bridge and all its backed-up, detoured traffic.

Bridges? We don't need no stinkin' bridges!

Bridges? We don’t need no stinkin’ bridges!

So I’m saving my sympathy for those poor souls caught in that traffic. Especially truckers who don’t have a choice, and all those poor Memorial Day Weekend travellers.

Me–I ain’t goin’ nowhwere, ’cause I don’t have to. And I’ll happily cede the spotlight to some region who needs it, like poor old Oklahoma.

What about you? Do you sometimes fall victim to the drama of feeling like a victim, even when you aren’t? Where do you think that impulse comes from? Let me hear your thoughts. OR…Share your WORST TRAFFIC DETOUR STORY EVER.