an Oregon winter

I grew up accustomed to winter. I spent my childhood in Colorado, where we rarely, if ever, got snow days. (Seriously, I can probably count the number of snow days I had on one hand.) Then I went to school in Utah where winters were very similar to my Colorado ones.

This is my first winter in Oregon, and it's a lot different. For almost the entire month of January it felt practically seasonless. The weather was cold enough so you were uncomfortable and needed a jacket but not so cold that you could see your breath. It hardly even rained in January. Sometimes it was cloudy and sometimes not; it was a very strange month weather-wise. It was just gray with few season indicators.

Hoping I don't jinx myself, I'll admit that I like weather. I like the weather that accompanies the seasons: the snow and cold of winter, the easing warmth of spring, the heat and sun of the summer, and the blustery chill of autumn. I love the weather markers that tell me where I am in the year. And here in Oregon, I miss the snow. I miss the way falling snow muffles sounds so everything is just quiet, and I miss waking up to snow falling off tree boughs and compelling warm and cozy evenings.

So this morning when we woke up and saw this, my heart warmed a bit.

But when I saw the general response to these two inches of snow, it felt like Oregon was prepping for snow madness. {Click photo to enlarge.}

Chains. On the buses. For two inches of snow. Most of which was melted from the roads anyway. Oh, brother.

At least the traffic was great coming into Portland, because, you know, lots of people were snowed in.