It’s pouring outside. I can hear it as I type. It’s the kind of rainstorm that blows in from the Pacific and makes you want to stay inside curled up by the fire. Friday was the same way…one of those wet, cold, gray, just plain nasty days. It is, of course, not a surprise given that like clockwork, sometime right around Halloween the glory that is summer in Portland disappears as Mother Nature casts her wet spell over the region for the next several months.
Jeff recalls that he took the transition hard last year, but I’m the one who is having the hard time this year. It was around last weekend that the local weather guys and gals began sounding the warning sirens: For the first time in some crazy string of time, rain was headed our way; a storm was coming in Thursday night. The buzz began that the end of summer was imminent.
Last week we had a nice visit from Grandma Jeanette and Grandpa Gene from San Antonio. With one of our two largest fundraising events of the year on Friday night and a member magazine that was just going to press, the beginning of their visit was the height of what had been a slightly insane May at work. (And preceded by an insane summer.)
By Saturday morning I was breathing a million sighs of relief at the thought of having at least a few days of reprieve – made even better by the fact that they had kindly agreed to watch Ian and Elena Sunday evening to Monday while Jeff and I spent a night away in Cannon Beach.
We love Cannon Beach. It’s such a quaint and pretty little town, and the fact that it’s a mere 1.5 hours from Portland makes it that much better. Of course, as much as I love the whole Oregon coast for its sheer beauty, the one thing I’ve learned for sure that you can depend on is that you can never depend on the weather there. We’ve had days where it’s 90 in Portland and clear as a bell until the last two minutes of the drive into town and it instantly turns foggy and chilly. All you can do is accept that it’s part of the charm of living in the Pacific Northwest.
But when Jeff and I departed the house on our little beach adventure mid-Sunday afternoon, for once we had no weather expectations. It was just okay in Portland and in fact, we fully expected it to be overcast and chilly at the beach. Imagine our surprise when we rolled into town with the sun shining and not a cloud in the sky. Even the locals always seem pleasantly surprised when this happens!
It happened tonight while I was on my way to pick up Elena after work. My first hint of frustration that over the next few months will more than likely turn into all-out anger and bitterness.
It’s actually been silently building all week. I was trying to suppress it, much like when I’m dying to make a little after-dinner trip to the yogurt shop across the street. It was Facebook’s fault, I think. All these so-called “friends” posting from DC about how warm it’s been. “Grilling season has officially begun!” posted one with a picture of her boys before dinner outside on their deck. “I should have never gone outside for lunch because now I just don’t want to go back!” posted another. Then a comment from my mother-in-law in Texas, “It’s been 80 here.” Followed by a picture of my nephew on the playground from my sister-in-law there…I couldn’t help but notice the bright sunshine and clear skies in the background. Of course, it’s central Texas. I mean, isn’t 80 like the annual low temp there? Still, it sounded nice.