An Ode to the Oregon Rain

An Ode to the Oregon Rain

I couldn’t help but smile today.

Even though it’s been pouring, non-stop, since last night. 

Hazy gray skies magically make puddles appear,

On even the most level looking ground.

Trees sardonically ambush unsuspecting passerby’s with fat raindrops,

While the charcoal-dappled clouds endlessly mock those who long for sun.

Some spring flowers struggle under the never-ending bombardment of water droplets,

It's so obvious to spot the ones that are transplants, 

Just like with the human population.

I smile,

For, while other girls wear fancy colorful rain boots,

The ones that have pathetic seams with sneaky invisible leaks in them,

I have my steel-toed black farm boots,

And I'll tell you, water has no chance of getting into those puppies.

I’m invincible as I splash child-like through lakes on the sidewalk.

Stomping extra just to watch the water splash, I feel only slightly silly.

I remember: I’m an Oregonian to my very core (not some feeble SoCal floozy).

Joyfully, mark this one down as another “cats and dogs” day,

In the waterlogged story of my life.

Joyfully, because there is a whisper that treads across my mind on days like these:

All these suckers are going home for summer.

That’s what 18 years of frigid winters and showery springs will do to you.

They’ll make you smile because it’s raining.