It hardly rained last Thursday

The Cascadia weather is always a topic of conversation. Sitting in a cafe, "it's freezing today," or "god I hate the rain" bounce around the dim lit environment. People come to Oregon and fall into a somber state, dragging their feet through puddles.
Truth is, it hadn't rained for a week and for some it was almost overbearing standing under a cold shower fully clothed while beating a cookie sheat to recreate that last great thunderstorm. Raised in Pacific Northwest, the odd climatical patterns sweeping past Juan de Fuca and bombarding the Cascardes are a thing of the norm, and most certainly enjoyable.
In a world evermore standard, the sporadic rainshowers amidst a bluebird day are a welcome change. A change I can believe in. Caught in a hailstorm in boardshorts and a tie-dye tanktop is a remembered moment. Walking to class in reefs on a clear day is not.
There is a sense of apology to be felt for those who stuggle to adapt to Cascadias eclectic weather. The ability to rearrange one's perception of ideal weather from standard sun to sudden storms is not an easy task. To truly appreciate the cascadia frontier, however, respect for the elements who stand atop the ladder of hierarchy is necessary.