All Wet

Well the floodgates have opened. The picture of Oregon’s truest self is now beating on our windows and dripping down our gutters. Medium used: watercolor.
Roads are beginning to grow sporadic puddles. The kind where you actually hope there is an unsuspecting pedestrian appropriately placed as you drive by. The bird’s eye view of downtown Portland now appears as a sea of black mini-domes and plastic points scurrying and sorting through the sidewalks and streets. One would assume two massive funerals were taking place at opposite ends of the city and everyone was late. Umbrellas are being left in the lobbies of buildings everywhere, only to be retrieved later by the sheepish, dripping owner. And the proud owners of ‘vintage houses’ are nervously checking their basements every half hour, letting a sigh of relief escape their lips each time the basement remains dry.
It seems Oregon is not alone in this recent onslaught of precipitation. Almost every football game on Sunday featured a muddy field and streaming water. Football announcers and players were all complaining about ‘conditions on the field,’ and the officials were devotedly swapping out wet footballs with ‘dry’ footballs at the beginning of every play. Dry footballs that they had been holding under drenched towels during game play.
Yes it is wet. My hope is that the temperature will decrease enough for all of this falling water to transform into snow. I don’t hate rain, but you can’t make a rain angel or a rain man. You can’t throw rainballs and sled down a rainslope. Rain is simply not as fun as snow. Enough with the rain. Let it snow. Then it will be time for a new blog.