Today it poured in Vancouver. From the moment the running posse left the corner of Denman and Georgia bound for the trails of Stanley Park, to the moment I was safely ensconced in the warmth of home, I was chilled and damp. THIS is the stuff that people mutter about when they're grousing about the weather in the Pacific Northwest. And I'd be fibbing if I pretended I was above all this grousing....
It's grey. It's wet. And yes, perhaps it IS a bit miserable. But I'll tell you what - growing up on the other coast of Canada, I can assure you that the rain doesn't politely fall from the skies in St. John's. Nay - it comes at you sideways, slapping you silly from head to toe. The only way to remain dry in St. John's is to wear a full sized zip lock baggy. In Vancouver, we can carry umbrellas, because the rain isn't rude here. It's polite, in a truly Canadian way. West coast rain is not rebellious like it's Newfoundland counterpart.
There's another side to fall in the Pacific Northwest, and I thought I'd take a moment to remind us all of the days that aren't plagued by the kind of grey that has leapt straight off the pages of Cormac McCarthy's novel "The Road". On rainy days like today, it's entirely possible to forget about the flip side of fall. I took these photos when Lisa and I went for a stroll in Seattle last Sunday.
We stopped at a shopping centre to pick up a couple of things, and Lisa asked the woman at the Mac counter to do her eyes. The result was a full-on homage to fall.
So the next time November is making you feel blue, squint through the wall o' grey, and you might find your eyes falling upon something like this:
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