…and the state to the north of me has disappeared. I’m sure that Washington is still where it belongs and to the people passing by Dismal Nitch it looks as though Oregon has dropped off the map.
Welcome to late spring in the Pacific Northwet. It looks a lot like late winter, though it’s not nearly as cold.
Venturing out into the gloom before nightfall (that would be the time of darker gray before the dark-blue gray), the only sounds were the faint but persistent splashes of raindrops in puddles and on leaves, the gushes of water in downspouts and the upward-lilting trills of Swainson’s Thrushes.
I’m glad to hear the thrushes. I’ve loved that stairstep call since I was a kid. But, where are the rest of the trappings of spring? Yes, rhodies have bloomed and spent themselves and the daffodils were weeks early, but where the hell is the sun?
In “normal” years, my daily uniform would have been shorts and sandals for at least six weeks by now, and I would have had my upstairs windows open constantly since the beginning of April.
This has been one sorry, soggy spring.
Even the herons look pissed off.
Oh, wait… they always look pissed off.