One of the properties of Moscow is a wet winter and spring. We’re close enough to the coast to get the rainy weather patterns, yet far enough inland to incur the effects of the Cascades rain shadow. Though I suppose being at the foothills of the next major mountain divide, it’s only natural for the moisture to build up and then drop before passing into Montana. The rain here is more of a constant drizzle than the short, hard rains we’d get in the summer in the Appalachians. The drizzle will last all day. It’s the sort of grey rain that feels right if you’re sitting at home in front of the fire place napping all afternoon while watching movies. Unfortunately, that’s not a feasible option five days out of the week.
The surprising property of these rains is that they almost always end before sundown. Often enough, I’ve walked out of school to find the sun shining on the western horizon. The after-storm glow is magnificent. It illuminates the tall, white silos of the grainery in town with the dark purple clouds in the background. It paints Moscow Mountain in a golden glow. Moscow Mountain, by the way, has an abrupt white cap, a specific elevation where the precipitation remained snow and stuck to the trees. The overall warmth in color tones ease the cold, wet day, a perfect blend of color and contrast. It is this point where I kick myself for not thinking ahead.
I wish I had my camera.