Rain, Rain, Rain
Two Norwegians are sitting down having coffee. One man says, “When it started to rain today, I saw a tourist running under a bus stop. He said he was waiting for the rain to pass.” And they both burst out laughing.
When it rains here, it could rain for weeks. And windy. “Blowing like a mule’s ass,” my friend Joe used to say. That’s what autumn brings. For the last few days it rained side-ways most of the time. Gone are the majestic mountains from our vista, and white caps flicker all over the sea around us. Seagulls hover and struggle to make way. Occasionally the dude above takes a break to drink some water and a few holes open up in the sky and columns of white light beam down like the spotlights from flying saucers. Then the dude resumes urinating on us.
Before I go outside, I don my armor of GORE-TEX gear from head to toe. Umbrella? The Norwegians are now laughing uncontrollably.
The season changed abruptly. A week ago the leaves started to turn yellow. I’m told that in a week, there’ll hardly be any leaves left on the trees. The days are also getting shorter, exacerbated by the overcast sky: When I walk with the kids to school at 8 in the morning, it feels like we’re walking under twilight. It won’t be long before we’ll walk to school in complete darkness.
This is what we signed up for, and we have to make the best of it. We started today by making a great big pot of curry and invited some people over. I was told once that humans are waterproof. Or at least water resistant. So we need to get out regardless the weather. Marcus and I went geocaching today and found a treasure box next to the church just steps down the street. But no matter what the weather casts its long shadow on everything. For me, the dreadful contour of the arctic winter ahead is starting to sink in.