It rarely snows at my house. Yes, it is true that most times of the year I can look to the west up at the Olympic Mountains and see snow, but down here where I live in the lowlands of Puget Sound, it’s usually rain that we experience. And rain. And more rain.
It seems like the best we can hope for in terms of snow (and then, it’s only hope) is maybe one good blast a year. When I look out the windows and see the strange white stuff blanketing our property, I grab a camera and run out to document the event, like it was some Big News Story.
I have just the best time.
I was going through some of the personal pictures I shot in 2007, organizing my archive. I came across some images I kind of like from our Big Snow of ‘07 (the storm was in the first week of March, when the spring crocuses were beginning to poke their hopeful heads above ground, and my son Abell and I were getting twitchy because Opening Day of Seattle Mariners baseball was only a month away.)
Right about now, I wouldn’t mind seeing snow outside my window.
We’ve all pretty much had our fill of rain.
