On Weather

My friend Robbin who resides in Eugene Oregon would be proud of me. I am almost happily walking in the rain these days, sans umbrella. Back in Cincinnati, she'd chastise me for being tied to my umbrella and/or refrain from walking or running when it would rain. Get over it is what you have to do when you live in the Northeast or west, I now humbly realize, and getting over it is what I'm doing for good reason: it's rained since I got here (10 days) except for one day when the sun blazed hot and humid. The rain actually helps offset the persistent humidity, so that a rain or mist feels welcome during a long walk, even when the prevailing winds seem to be from everywhere.

Yesterday morning is a good example. I began a walk though I'd heard the rain spilling out of the gutters outside my window. A long-sleeved shirt and cap would protect me enough, I guessed. By the time I hit the end of the walkway to the main street in campus, it had stopped raining and instead a constant mist hung in the air--cool and refreshing as I winded my way around the neighboring streets that lined the ocean, admiring the cape cods and the flowers in their window boxes and the lush landscape that seems to harbor all varieties of trees and bushes.

I decided to take a path that led to the beach and discovered the huge expanse that is low tide. A changed landscape from last week when a narrow strip of soft sand was all there was to walk on; instead, a veritable parking lot of hard-packed sand dotted with the detritus of the ocean allowed me to criss-cross the beach as I walked and ran, finding beach glass, shells, and rocks that soon began to weight my pockets. Then the rain started, with wind from nowhere and everywhere. It felt wonderful and as though I were part of the ocean myself.

The part I haven't gotten used to yet, and as a Cincinnatian I should be used to this, is the humidity. Today's weather is finally sun and into the 70s--but with 100% humidity. Wet when I want to be, yes. Wet when walking to class just because there's no way to stay cool . . . . Okay, so I haven't jumped all the hurdles of being a Mainer; I have three weeks more to try.