Spring in Oregon is usually overcast.
Most of the time I like to tell my out-of-state friends that actually, Oregon is mostly desert. That the majority land use is ranching. That there are gulches and canyons and lava beds dominating the southeastern third of the state.
But you know, something about this stretch between March and June always makes me feel like that’s untruthful.
It’s gray. And cool. And rainy. And misty. Fog covers the highways at night, and the stretch from Corbett to Cascade Locks is perpetually underwater. Tree frogs sing in the downs, and ospreys stand a stoic, drenched vigil over their nests along the river. Streams swell, rivers rise, and waterfalls roar and thunder.
So of course, in my hands this week I have a little patch of still water or maybe even sunny sky to balance all that out.
It’s the skirt of a dress, toddler-size, that I’m more or less making up as I go along with a pattern for inspiration.
I was a little sad about the yarn when I first saw it in person– I do most of my yarn shopping online, and I was expecting a deeper, richer set of blues. What was described as just “blue” and looked like it might be royal, cobalt, and marine turned out to be robin’s egg, turquoise, and pool.
But I’m warming up to it. Especially, I think, because of the season around me.