It may have rained last night; the ground looks damp, and
the neighboring roof is shining in the morning sun.
I sure hope it rained. It has been more than 70 days since
we’ve had anything like what you’d call rainfall in Portland, Oregon.
Official reports recorded only a “trace” in the entire month
of August. In September, a couple of fat drops hit me on the evening of Friday
the 14th while I was on my way to see a friend’s production of Yasmina Reza’s
“Art”; and a week later I awoke to a damp and shiny neighborhood somewhat like
what I can see this morning. Two nights ago, a local news station said we’d had
a total of four-hundredths of an inch for the entire month.
Most of the rest of the state of Oregon, and indeed, the
Pacific Northwest, has been just as dry. Seattle went 48 days without any rain
until mid September.
Normal rainfall in our city at this time of year is a little
over an inch in August, a little less than two in September. I can’t say it’s
been unpleasant; we’ve had a week or more of 90-plus temperatures and a couple
days that exceeded 100, which is not that uncommon for us.
I lead walking tours of downtown Portland for visitors to
the city, and tourists from Palm Springs, Phoenix, Texas, and Naples, Florida
happily told me they had escaped relentless three-digit temperatures—plus the
high humidity that is even more rare than 100 degrees here.
But as a native Oregonian and a resident of Portland the
past 21 years, week after week of sunshine and no precipitation (we haven’t
even had that many overcast days!) feels very, very strange.