Greetings from Paradise...er, Portland

Be it ever so humble....

Today marks the first full day of autumn, the beginning of my favorite time of the year. The leaves are changing, there’s a chill in the air, and even the “hot” days don’t seem so uncomfortably warm. Here in the Pacific Northwest, there’s a several-week period from early September through late October that’s pleasant and beautiful. The rain holds off, the weather’s comfortable, and the sky’s a surprisingly lovely azure blue.

When I exited the comfort of home and dove into the morning chill, it was 49 degrees, cold enough that I went back inside to grab a jacket. The dew, thick and heavy on the plants in the yard, made everything look as if it had rained last night, even though there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. Yes, autumn is upon us.

In a few weeks, the rains will begin, and we’ll be back to complaining about our dreary gunmetal grey days just as we do every year in late October and early November. For now, though, there’s a magic in the air that I adore. Being outside lifts my spirits. The air seems fresher and less complex. Even the trees seem to open their arms and welcome me. Life feels lighter.

I love this time of year more than any other. The mornings are chilly, the afternoons comfortable, and the evenings crisp and brisk once the sun goes down. I have to get used to dressing in layers again- removing them and putting them back on sometimes several times a day.

‘Tis the season.

**

As I write this, a crow marches forlornly on the sidewalk in front of my office in downtown Portland. It stops every few seconds and looks at me as if he’s hoping I’ll throw a few crumbs his way. Sadly, I have nothing for him, and sure enough, after a few minutes, he gives me one last look and flies off in search of another mark.

Sorry, dude, but I’m fresh out of roadkill. Tomorrow, perhaps??

**

One of the marvelous things about this beautiful weather is that it seems to put almost everyone I encounter in their best frame of mind. Even the homeless and those in the midst of a mental health “issue” seem less troubled than used.

The girl with purple hair who just walked by seems as if she’s enjoying life this morning. The barista making my latte gives me a bigger than usual smile…but it could be that I gave her a larger than normal tip. It’s Friday, I’m in a good mood, and the caffeine I’m about to imbibe will work its usual magic on me. Indeed, I’m about to maintain my perfect record of never having fallen asleep at my desk, which is a very good thing.

Mornings like this leave me feeling exceedingly grateful to live where I do.

I’m fortunate to live in a part of the United States blessed with abundant physical beauty. Mountains, forests, rivers, the Pacific Ocean- all this and more make the Pacific Northwest an amazing place to live. Sure, it can be grey, damp, and dreary during the winter, but that’s the trade-off we make. So the winter and spring are damp and grey, the summers are dry and not as hot as in other parts of the country, and autumn can be as temperate and lovely.

Having grown up in Minnesota and moved to Portland after college, I’ve come to appreciate the peaceful and moderate nature of the weather in the Pacific Northwest. Hurricanes, tropical storms, and similar deadly weather events don’t head our way, which are things I don’t miss from my ten years living on the Texas Gulf Coast.

Perhaps once or twice a year, Portland gets a severe windstorm from the east out of the Columbia Gorge, but as severe weather goes, that’s about as bad as it gets.

I often think of moving, and over the almost 40 years since I first moved to Portland, I’ve moved away and returned on four different occasions. Something kept drawing me back. I went overseas twice, back to Minneapolis for a year, and then to Houston for ten years. After returning from Houston, it dawned on me that there must be a reason I keep coming back to Portland. Something kept pulling at me, and I finally decided I would be well-advised to pay attention to that voice.

Once I did, I began to understand that perhaps this was where I was supposed to be all along. No matter what I’ve done or where I’ve been, Portland has always been “home.” Minnesota is just the place where I grew up, went to college, and still have family…but it’s no longer home. I can’t see myself living there and being happy.

And so I got married, bought a house, settled down, and couldn’t be happier. There’s something about living in Portland that resonates with me. It’s home. Portland is where I feel most alive and comfortable. Sure, a part of me would love to go back overseas, to San Diego, or who knows where else, but no matter where I might go, Portland will always be home.

I’m always thinking of other places to travel to or live, but the older I get, the more I realize that my life is here- friends, family, the familiar rhythms of life, the restaurants we love- and it would be tough to leave that behind. Not that we couldn’t, of course, if the right opportunity presented itself, and I’m always open to that. Still, it would feel as if we’re giving up a lot, and we would be.

And it’s days like this that make me realize how difficult it would be to drag me away from here.

**

If anyone needs me, I’ll be lying in a field full of dandelions and staring up into the sky.