"You know, how on a crystal autumn morning everything seems lit up from within, the air sharp as glass, everyone grinning at the startling poem of it all? Then it begins to rain and by the middle of the afternoon it's still raining, and I go for a walk and my shoes get soaked and for the life of me I can't find my umbrella, and I realize with a sinking feeling that The Wet is upon me, moist and insistent."
"It has rained for 47 days and nights. I squelch to work. I wear hats. I can't find my umbrella. One poor little town west of the city gets 14 inches of rain in a single day... It was raining so hard, he said, that people couldn't get out of their cars; he heard that one guy was in his cabin when it slid into the creek and became a houseboat."
Brian Doyle, an Oregon essayist and Portland Magazine editor, maintained a rain journal documenting his complex relationship with Portland's wet season. Beginning in November, Doyle captured the transition from crisp autumn mornings to the onset of relentless rainfall he called "The Wet." His entries reveal both poetic appreciation for fall's crystalline light and growing frustration as rain persists for weeks. A December 2002 entry describes 47 consecutive days of rain, with one nearby town receiving 14 inches in a single day, causing flooding and stranding residents. Doyle's observations blend humor with exasperation, chronicling the practical challenges and surreal moments of enduring Portland's extended rainy season.
Read at Portland Monthly
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