Summers in paradise are sometimes referred to as glorious. And they are. But spring, well, spring truly does begin with the Spring Equinox, and unlike other places in the Pacific Northwest, the rain is about half as much here as anywhere else. The beginning of Daylight Savings Time came a full ten days before the Equinox this year. By the time spring was official, morning daylight was in abundance, birdsong was in the air, and winter was tucked into the back pocket of my jeans, and had happily been forgotten like a five dollar bill. Well, not like a five dollar bill, more like a dunning notice from the IRS. Ah winter, when will this long seige end, when will you and I become friends? I find winter to be a lot like childbirth, once over it is quickly forgotten. March does seem to be the end of winter here, and summer definitely lasts into September. That makes winter only six months long as opposed to the dreary nine month winter feared earlier in the search to understand the seasons here. Six months is definitely acceptable. Amen.
I find the longer I stay here, the more there is to do, and the more connected you get to people, places, and things, the more fun and interesting it is to live here. Of late I've noticed a kind of yin and yang to the place, diametric opposition is part of what defines the life here. Summer/winter, crowded/empty, sunny and balmy/cloudy and cold, long light days/short dark ones. A seasonal change from one to the other that gives the place a rhythm, a dependable pendulum swing that defines the year. Surrounded by constantly moving sea and air, the islands benefit from the renewal of change. Yet resistance to change is part of the culture. The social history of the place, is one of flux, but the geography is at the same time anchoring, islands steady like the rocks that they are. Since everyone knows everyone else, and everyone else's business, there is a fishbowl nature to this tiny county which is, at the same time, full of secrets. San Juan is a place that is both united by the difficulties one faces if one chooses to be here, and divided into many communities as well as factions, the divisions being both geographical and philosophical. People here are both fiercely independent and yet out of necessity interdependent. There are opportunities for hard work and intense play. Bright and bustling during the day, dark and silent in the night. Great wealth juxtaposed with extreme poverty. Intense human activity overlaid on a base of seemingly unspoiled natural beauty.
For working people, making it here financially is a constant challenge to one's creativity and ingenuity. A very competitive marketplace must also be a place of cooperation and collegiality. We are many islands, and many communities, yet we are one county. We both dislike county government, and cannot get along without it. We are unique and proud of it, yet it is that same uniqueness that makes solving problems the way they've been solved elsewhere not work all that well in many instances. There's the constant search for new ways to pay one's way matched with an economy that defies it. Ever hopeful, financial optimists we are, yet we are the working poor. So you have to really want to be here. There's no, "well maybe" about the place. You have to be tough to live here, yet so many of us are artists and by our very nature, sensitive and vulnerable. One has to become like the oysters for which this place is famous, hard as rocks on the outside. But on the inside, you'll find tenderness, and very often, at the center, a pearl.
In many ways, duality defines this place, so should it be any surprise the seasons are that way too? The dark and cold of winter suddenly bursting forth into the blossom that is spring in the San Juans. March 21 did arrive with a pleasant surprise. Spring doesn't saunter in with plenty of warning in San Juan, it bursts forth like a daffodil, one day a closed green bud, the next day a fully opened burst of bright yellow. Seeing that happen was a wonderful surprise, and yes, yes, every year is different, and so forth. The really good part is from here on, it just gets better. Glorious summer awaits with all its fast paced activity. And when the dust of summer finally settles, and I experience my fifth winter here, with time on my hands, I'll get around to washing those jeans, and then I'll find out what is in the back pocket, a dunning notice from the IRS, or a five dollar bill.
