Rain & Gratitude

I struggle to decide what to wear. Rain is predicted, but we hope to finish our hike before it begins. Not having worn long pants all summer, I opt for lightweight leggings under my skort and carry both fleece and Gore-Tex®. Just in case.

Choosing a hike also proves challenging. We hope to escape the forest fire smoke by heading north from Seattle, then east on Highway 2. In Gold Bar we stop to reconsider. The smoke is hanging high, so we decide to avoid elevation and nix our plan for Heybrook Ridge given the view will be nominal. Instead, we head for Bridal Veil Falls, a hike I’ve never done despite a lifetime in the region.  

We picnic at the side of the falls, breathing in the damp fresh air, grateful for respite from the smoke and for the firefighters struggling against the violence of a changing environment. Like writing, hiking grounds me when the stresses of our physical and political world become unbearable.

The long awaited rain begins as we descend from the falls, this gray rain so desperately needed after a summer of drought. I hold open my hands, my mouth, like a happy child, hopeful this rain will be enough to control the fires. I feel the rain on my face and think of my mother a child of the Dust Bowl dreaming of rain, and I am grateful.