I am blessed to live by the ocean, in the great Puget Sound. Everyday I get to see the changing shore, the constantly wavering shape of the tide and beach, the wondrous variety of horizon, of clouds and sky and water line, the colors, oh the millions of colors, the light and dark, the warm and cold, the sun and clouds and gray.
It’s been snowing for a week and all I can see is white and gray.
When I was in fifth grade in Utah I remember studying about forestry and they spent an entire quarter talking about Washington state and the history of forestry up and down the Puget Sound. It was a magical, far off place that was green, evergreen, and full of water inlets and rivers that made up a bright blue and green vista. Gorgeous; somewhere I’d hope to travel to and see in person one day in my life. Never would I imagine that life would plant me here as easily as the evergreen trees themselves, with roots so deep that the only way to remove me would be by blunt force.
I am blessed to get to drive around Birch Bay every morning and evening and depending on how light it is (the sun sets very early in the Winter and very late in the Summer, shockingly so), I get to see the sea… the highs and lows, the clouds, the water in all its shades.
So for today I absorb the gray and let it become a part of this part of me. The one that sits and writes and sips coffee and makes breakfast for the kids and gets to drive into work late since it’s so icy. This part of me that is also gray, as it misses the brightness of Summer, the warmth of the sun, the chirp of Springtime, the most beautiful green you’ve ever seen, my evergreen.