Evergreen

My city hibernates.

Every fall, when the clouds and the rains come, we retreat into our homes. We scurry by with umbrellas. We slumber long, black hours. We sprint to our cars. We hide under hoods. We forget the faces of our neighbors.

We, the people of the Pacific Northwest, hunker down.

It's not so bad, really. The rain is part of our mystique. If you live in this corner of the world, either you adapt and find ways to deal with the monsoon-like seasons, or you move. (There's also the complainy pants option, but that gets old really fast.)

Speaking of adaptation, should you find yourself without your Gore-Tex jacket, umbrella, galoshes, or one of those unforgivable, full body rain sack thingies, you've got the trees. Washington is The Evergreen State, and our evergreen trees, of which there are many, make handy rain shelters.

But that's only if you feel the need for shelter. Many do not. There's a certain swagger that comes with an umbrella-free stroll down the street, the rain pummeling holes in your face. It's good for the complexion, too.

As a native northwesterner, I can talk the talk. We love to get all rainbows and unicorns about the weather around here. But come February and early March, even the most die hard rain-revelers are ready for the sun, emerging en masse at the first sign of its unimpeded rays.

(Warning: such an accusation could get you shanked with an umbrella rod. Keep your sunshine-lovin' thoughts to yourself, if you know what's good for you.)

But it's true. We like sunshine as much as the rest of the world does, and when springtime draws near, the days lengthening and the clouds parting more frequently, we come out of our bunkers.

Sure, we're groggy and pale, but no one's more exuberant about a spot of unexpected sun than a Seattlite after a long-haul winter.

And guess what? We got that spot last week! Two or three magical days. It was heaven - the real rainbows and unicorns deal. And it was just what I needed to power through the remainder of our drizzly spring.

I love almost everything about living here, even the rain.

I love building a fire, cuddling up on the couch, and drinking my latte as the dark sky unleashes a torrent of water. I love the clouds, the way they cloak our mountain ranges. I love the fog, the way it rises from the valleys and ravines. I love the mist, the way it coats my skin and settles on the lashes of my babies.

And I love the joy that comes with a break from the deluge and the grey, the sun dragging us out-of-doors. Like bears waking from a deep sleep.