Walking in the rain.

Rain in Red Square at 4:30 p.m.
University of Washington

Poring over my past posts, I notice that "rain" is a familiar topic.  Complaining about rain.  Lamenting lack of rain.  Oddly awed by how weather changes from sunny to rainy, or vice versa, here in the Northwest Corner.  And a surprising number of references to how rainy it is, or was, or may be in Britain while hiking over there.

But most noteworthy, for today's purposes, was a 2016 post entitled "Drowned Rat."  The plot was simple.  I had decided the weather was good.  I started my daily walk.  Perversely, it poured.  I was drenched.  I wussed out, turned around, and returned home without completing my hike.  I mortified myself.

Today, I can report something more uplifting.  It's been unseasonably dry all season, but today rain was forecast with 100 percent certainty, starting at noon today and continuing through tomorrow.  I looked out the window at about 2 p.m.  Yup, it was steadily raining.  Well, maybe things will ease off, I told myself.  Looked again at 3 p.m.  Still steadily raining.

Based on "Drowned Rat," this is where I would say that hiking today was not feasible; I'd curl up with a good book.   But no!  "Am I or am I not?" I asked myself, quoting a character in André Aciman's memoir.  Am I a Native of the Northwest Corner?  Am I a Man of Great Machismo?  Or am I a sniveling coward who fears a potential fate as a drowned rat?

Sweater on.  Check.  Windbreaker on. Check.  Hiking shoes on.  Check.  Out the door and into the rain.  At 3:30 p.m. in mid-December, it's already dusky in these parts, but I am not deterred.

Seen from your window, rain can look intimidating as it splashes into  puddles.  But once you're outside, wrapped up in rain gear, you hardly even notice it.  I loved the hike.  Walking in the brisk forty-four degree (6.5° C.) outside air was invigorating.  The rain in my face was bracing.  I felt like a kid again, a kid who had to walk to school every day, regardless of whether it was raining, and who not only didn't mind it, but liked it.  All of us did as kids.  Our lockers steamed each morning with drenched coats and jackets.  No one told a teacher, oh, I couldn't come to school yesterday.  It was raining.

Not only the teacher but your fellow students would howl with laughter.  This is the State of Washington.  Rain is what we do up here.

The only obstacle to enjoying a walk in the rain, possibly, are the puddles that gather on our weirdly irregular sidewalks.  You have to look for them and tiptoe around them at times.  As kids, we wore boots over our school oxfords, boots like those you see in drawings of Christopher Robin.  I  don't have those, but I have hiking shoes with thick soles and Gore-Tex tops.  If I don't step into a three-inch deep puddle, my feet stay dry.

I hiked as far as Suzzallo Library on the University campus, where I stopped at the library's branch Starbucks.  Finals were over last week; the campus is still populated but not crowded, and the buildings stay open with reduced hours.  I sat down with my cup of coffee and a muffin, enjoying the unusually calm atmosphere, watching wet tourists drop by and look around.  It was definitely dusk by the time I departed.  The street lights and car headlights reflected on the wet streets and sidewalks.  I realized why so many photographers of city life in Paris and New York love scenes of rainy nights and twilights. 

By the time I looped around the campus and back into Red Square, back once more in front of the library, it was much darker.  I snapped the photo above, and continued home.  I got back to the house just after 5 p.m..  It had been totally dark for maybe a half hour.  The puddles in front of me were now nearly invisible in the dark.  By the time I reached my house, my shoes were soaked from prancing through them.

But who cares?  I'm a Wild Man of the Northwest.  None of my DNA comes from the Wicked Witch of the West.  Unlike her, I'm not soluble in rain water.

I strip off my windbreaker and drenched baseball cap.  I put on dry jeans.  Dry shoes.  I pour myself another cup of coffee.  I feel happy.  Virtuous and happy.