When I first moved to Portland, Ore., which was during the
summer several years ago, I was so relieved to find out that—NO—it does not rain all the
time. Summer is perfect and pretty. Less than a year later, I found out about
springtime in Portland. For me, it is the longest season of the year and also the
most unpredictable. It’s sunny—but still cold—one day. Snowing—literally—the
next. Portland weather in spring gives me whiplash. Honestly, I’d almost rather
it just stay gray up until a blazing hot summer, which we’ve missed out on the last
few years. Thank you, La-freaking-Niña.
My best writing time used to be summer. Then I started
writing For Ever in the dead of
winter. I guess Portland gray suits me now, but the
sunny-cold-windy-cloudy-snowy-rainy of spring still makes me crazy.
What’s your best time of the year?
