I feel very lucky to live here. I love being able to go out for my runs still in a tank top and thin running pants. There's no question that it's chilly for the first ten minutes or so, but then you finish the rest of your run congratulating yourself on your tremendous insight and wisdom which have allowed you to be running still in November thus scantily clad because you were so clever as to move here to begin with.
Right around January, I start to feel the psychological drain of what feels like incessant gray, but then along comes February. I don't know why, but we almost always seem to have the world's most stunning February here. Remember the Olympics?
Our flora and fauna here are truly something to write home about. In my own backyard, I've personally seen raccoons, black bears (two of them), deer and rabbits. My neighbor once saw what he believed was a wolverine, early on one silent summer morning. There are regularly cougar sightings here. The trees I gaze upon in the forest just beyond my backyard are a cacophony of green, each vying for your attention. There are massive cedars that look to be centuries old and these are just the grandfathers of the tree hierarchy. They are stalwart. They look down upon the myriad young with a steady patience, uncompromising in their roles as overseers. They (and our lawns) stay green all winter long, providing a heady flash of color when you find yourself in the middle of all that rain that makes a perpetual damp of our winter here. I love it. Barring perhaps a swift move to Maui, I can't see myself ever living anywhere else.