The Anatomy of a Northwest summer rainstorm: The night before on the radio you hear, "Chance of showers, SW wind 5-15 knots." The day starts off overcast, gloomy, but dry. You try to be hopeful, "Ah, there's only a chance of showers." But deep down you're skeptical, you've heard this report before and the results weren't pretty. A light rain starts to fall, just noticeable by the rings on the water's surface. You hope it'll pass just like it started and you look to the SW to see what shade of gray the clouds are. The rain slowly builds. Now your jacket is soaked and you stop and add a layer. The rain drops start to "pop" a little on the water, dragging a tiny air bubble down from the surface. You see thousands of these climbing back up in the dark green that surrounds you. Another hour passes as the "showers" unleash themselves and soak everything that is not under a man-made roof. Your hat which held out for the first couple hours now drip, drip, drips onto your face, acting more as a sponge than as a shelter. You keep telling yourself this can't last all day and crank out the miles to keep warm. You notice a lighter patch in the clouds and hope returns...the rain goes from a downpour to gently, slowly easing off. There are gaps showing in the clouds in the southwest sky, they must make it to you eventually. Somehow, while its still drizzling, your jacket is getting dryer, slowing being cooked dry from the inside out by the thousands of calories you're burning. Finally, in an act of mercy and forgiveness, the rain stops, the water is no longer coming down from above, the transition is so subtle you didn't even notice the moment it actually stopped. (Mike)
