Watching the Rain Fall

Snow on Christmas Day is rare in Portland. It snowed Christmas Eve in 1998, but melted before Christmas Day got too far in. In 1990 there was a dusting. And the last measurable snow was in 1938. Today’s snow is a “dusting” but let me put it this way. It was enough to make the deck very white and put a good coat of snow on the roofs. For Portlanders, this brief spell of snow, this dusting is snowfall. We will either celebrate, or groan, as we watch the large wet flakes fall upon our city. Commenting on how they blow about or if they are sticking to certain surfaces. We marvel in the novelty of snow. What seems mundane across much of the North American Continent is a fleeting wonder in this city. We know that snow falls in the mountains. We will ski year round upon Mt Hood. We are familiar with and generally love snow. It allows us to live in this lush green climate that Oregonians adore. But to receive it in the Willamette Valley only comes a few times each winter. And as it only ever lasts a few hours, a morning, or as we had today, an afternoon, we stop and appreciate the beauty of those white flakes, coating everything, as though to hide the world under a fine dusting of powdered sugar.