Troublesome Gloom, Really?

As I sit here at my mahogany colored makeshift desk, I wonder how I got here.  Here being the Pacific Northwest.  North of Portland, west of Seattle, on this little island called Bainbridge.  In all seriousness, I know how I got here.  By choice, for something greater than I had before.  Above four wheels, via the highway.  Endlessly I could plug this island, but today I am troubled, tortured and not the biggest fan.  Why?  Well, mainly because of the weather.  It's windy, spitting rain and the massive amounts of grey clouds are unstoppable in their path of sky born fury.  I search for the crystal like, yellow beams I like to call sun but there are none.  None!  The temperature?  Well the thermometer reads consistently over 40 degrees in the morning and hovers in the mid 50's throughout the day.  If you're recovering from an Interior Alaska winter, this would in fact be a place similar to heaven on earth.  But it doesn't work that way for me.  

My mood?  It hasn't been the best as of late.  I'm unable to go as far as to describe my mood as toxic but when you place 4 individuals in a house that prefer heat, blue sky and 90 degrees, clearly it takes more effort to detoxify.  Instead I'll refer to my mood as gloomy.  Gloomy.  Dismally and depressingly dark.  Like Bainbridge.  Well okay, not quite that far gone.  Having a frowning or scowling appearance.  Okay, that description works on todays date.  Grrrr!  So I embellish a bit.  

On these gloomy days I can't help but retrieve memories of my Alaska Training.  Training was really living, but in retrospect it seems the plugging of my car, wearing a face mask and utilizing hand and feet warmers was ludicrous!  All in effort to survive sub zero temperatures and I was there by choice.  No wonder I moved to the inevitably warmer climate of Austin, Texas for a number of years.  But I have to say the never ending grey gloom of this place called the Pacific Northwest is tougher than any winter experienced in Alaska.  I mean, come on!  At least tossing hot coffee out a Fairbanks window at -40 degrees gives you an appreciation for what the weather can do.     

So cross legged I sit donning my black Teva flip flops, hoping for something like summer to appear.  I stop to look around.  Pretty much business as usual at 4:30 p.m. on a Monday.  My 10 year old has a friend over and they're playing in the hot tub and pool in the back of the house (pretending they're nearer the equator).  The 12 year old boy is watching the ever gore-filled CSI (set in Miami or Las Vegas, no doubt).  Mr. Handsome has just started our 130th wood burning fire, in as many days (clearly a record on the island).  The Akita is resting but guarding our business as usual.  In the time taken to write I've noticed just the slightest change in the gloomy weather.  A few hurried gusts followed by the constant clashing of wind chimes.  Perhaps an announcement of crystal like yellow beams?  I stretch my neck upward and peer out the sky light, hoping for a ray, a beam, a glimmer of sun.  A touch of blue appears.  For a moment the gloom has dissipated.