SOME CALL IT A RAIN SHADOW. I say it’s a vast patch of often diffused sunlight, surrounded by the saturated weather of Seattle, Portland, and the Pacific Ocean. A big, blue, hole in the sky.
This area along the Olympic Peninsula of NW Washington averages about 16 inches of rain per year. The median temperatures year-round on the coast, allow the golfer, or snowboarder, to go to their respective corners and enjoy.
For more than 22-years, I’ve been living in the often-dormant state of Wyoming. Our dog loved it. And there was a time when I played on the ice, skied, or fished in temperatures that would freeze the juice in your bones. But for now, the frozen, white tundra of Wyoming has been exchanged for a new carpet of lush green that covers everything in sight.
Now, in this land of water-fed abundance–albeit shadowed from the full downpour of neighboring regions of NW Washington–life ebbs on, before my eyes, as I watch the grass, the moss, double in size continuously all around me.
Much like my favorite Martinis–wet, but mostly dry–the rain shadow, blue hole, whatever you call it, seems a welcoming place to put down new roots.