A Dog's Life

Cascadia is a dog's utopia. Dogs are tremendously popular in the Northwest. You see dogs everywhere, with runners and hikers and cross country skiers and in cars and boats. They're at the parks, waiting outside the coffeehouses, and even at work. It seems that on just about every other Volvo or Subaru in town is the bumper sticker, "Dog is my Co-Pilot."

(Left: A neighborhood Sunday Morning "coffee klatch")

There is strong public support for animal services. Not only does this region have a powerful network of animal rights advocacy and rescue groups, but also very strong animal protection laws.

Dogs are well cared for (some may say, well, spoiled rotten) in Cascadia. In Seattle, and other Northwest cities, there are areas set aside in public parks specifically as off-leash areas for dogs. These areas are given extra support through service and fundraising groups such as COLA and SODA. Some even have special sections for small dogs only! There are doggie-daycare facilities, dog ranches (free range dog boarding), dog walking services, chic shops and groomers, and do-it-yourself grooming facilities.

There is phenomenal veterinary care as well, from general clinics, to emergency clinics, to specialty care. You can even find naturopathic vets and massage therapists for dogs.

(Left: My dog Sophie on her big bed with her basket-o-toys)
If you are traveling around Cascadia with your co-pilot, here are a few places to stay that are dog-friendly. Dogs are even allowed on the public buses in Seattle, you may need to pay a fare however, and they must keep all four paws on the floor.

I believe the number of well loved and cared-for dogs (and other animals) reflects well on Cascadia. It is suggestive of a humane, loving community... and a happy one. Dogs give back 10 times what they receive.

"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace." - Milan Kundera

When it snows in Seattle

Snow in Seattle, and most of the lowlands of Cascadia, is rare. We get approximately 3 non-consecutive days of snow a year. Usually it snows at night with the first bit melting, and a layer of snow covering a film of ice. By evening time the next day, the weather has warmed and the snow has melted. The marine air and proximity to such large bodies of water keep the temperatures temperate here.

As a result, when it does snow it is an event. It is a meteorological event, a community event, a news event, a personal event. Seattle pretty much shuts down in the snow. Part of it is because snow is so rare. We are unprepared, as a city and as individuals. Why invest heavily in snow equipment when it's such a small part of our lives? We never really learn how to drive in it in the city, as we get no practice. There is also the progression of a snow event itself, with the melting and refreezing comes ice. Then there is the geographical reason. We live on a city of hills. Trying to get to work becomes a carnival bumper car ride with less control.

(Above: Looking Southeast from Madrona Park across Lake Washington to Mt. Rainier)

So, we have a tendency to just give in to the weather at these times. It is self-serving as well because we become kids in the snow. Go for a walk and everyone is smiling. Seattle is so pretty in the snow, and it's a holiday. Everyone is walking or riding the bus, happily jostling to let just one more person on as, "we are all in it together." We use it as an excuse for cooking big, comfort-food meals and making hot, spiced cider and wine or walking to a neighborhood pub to share stories with neighbors.

Visitors be forewarned, the city shuts down in random fashion. Stores and museums may be closed. Buses may take alternate routes. Driving can be treacherous. And with the microclimates and convergence zones here, one neighborhood may have only a trace of snow, while the next on over may have 6". My recommendation is go with the flow and live in the moment. Soak in the childlikeness of the city on days like this.

(Above: Looking North along the shore of Madrona Park)

The city parks are the place to be. Seattlites gather in city parks and make communities of snowmen, let their kids and dogs race around, and take pictures.

Evergreen

The recent storms in Seattle have stripped fall from the trees. What bright yellow and red leaves there were left now lay in soggy piles over storm drains, blocking the rain water which "piles up" in turn, creating small lakes along the side of and into the roads. The loss of the color makes the days feel even more dreary.

What I tend to forget is how much color -- green -- is left. The majority of trees in Cascadia are evergreen. No matter the time of year, the landscape never looks stripped. It is dark color, but color all the same. When I appreciate this most is when I am seperated from it... when I am in an alternate winter landscape of bare deciduous trees, lacy forests of brown-grey branches holding up the monochrome sky.

Even the undergrowth stays green in the Northwest, with the sword ferns and rhodedenderons and moss. It is more spare, but it is not bleak. And rarely is there snow in the lowlands. This time of year we bring it inside as well... cedar and fir bows, swags of holly, laurel, and pine. We are surrounded by green, that lovely, dark, winter green.

Crows

This is the time of year when, from mid-afternoon until dawn, the crows flock together to roost. It is an eerie, rather unnerving, sight to walk beneath trees studded with hundreds of those large black birds. (Thank you Hitchcock.) They swarm like starlings. This presence in the winter landscape feels metaphoric of the dark grey, stormy season. As much as sea gulls, the crow (often called raven, but being a smaller cousin) is a bird that characterizes Cascadia. They are ubiquitous here and, being scavengers, their society is tightly interwoven with the human one.

They are integral to the cultural landscape as well. A prominent totem in Northwest Native American culture, the crow (raven) is seen as wise and a trickster, and is a central character in many creation stories.

As much as modern society often reviles crows as aggressive, thieving birds, they practice a noble community and family life. Mating pairs are generally together for life. They are very protective of their family (ever been dive-bombed by a crow in the spring? You were likely near a nest or a fledgling on the ground). The young stay with the family group for the first 2 or 3 years of their life, helping their parents raise their younger siblings before heading out to make a nest, and life, of their own.

There are innumerable stories about the intelligence of crows, from using tools for foraging to adaptation of scavenging behavior to respond to others to problem solving and teamwork when dealing with predators. I regularly see crows (or even a single crow) chasing off a bald eagle.

They are “old souls” with a sense of humor and a low threshold for BS. I admire that.

Quality of Light

In my last post, I mentioned the water-laden air here. Light in Cascadia is heavily affected by this. There is often an iridescent or opalescent quality to the light, particularly on sunny days from fall equinox to spring, when the sun is lower on the horizon. Sunlight shines through the moist air, adding a soft quality and depth to the landscape. The moisture that coats the trees, basalt rock, ferns, everything, deepens their colors as well. The result is visually transfixing. The environment seems to glow. Colors are oversaturated. Capturing this phenomenon has long been the obsession of Northwest artists. (The book, “Iridescent Light,” which tracks the evolution of modern Northwest art through its artists, describes this well.)


(Left: Lupin on Mt. Baker)

Bodies of water in the landscape, large and small, affect the light and the environment’s color palette as well. When the sun appears, the glare off the Sound, the ocean, the lakes, and even the puddles can be blinding. Yet, late in the day when the low sun cuts across the landscape under a bank of heavy clouds, the effect is stunning… like a movie set.

Then, on days like this the steely sky is reflected by the water, and both turn grey. Everything is shrouded in muted tones. Color withdrawal sets in….

The Element and Force of Water

Water defines Cascadia. Rain, rivers and lakes sculpt and feed the landscape. Puget Sound and the Pacific Ocean are our west wall. Salmon, traveling from mountain streams to the sea and back again has sustained human culture here for eons and remains an icon in NW culture. Cascadia, by one definition, is delineated by the rivers that empty into the Pacific.

We live in a temperate rain forest. The trees and undergrowth of the forests are as lush as many in the tropics, and stay equally green year around.

(Left: A rainy November Sunday afternoon in the Seattle Arboretum.)

Cascadia is renown (or infamous) for its grey skies and puddles. We have almost as many terms to describe rain as the Inuits have for describing snow: spitting rain, mist, sprinkles, showers (and its variations such as stattered and thunder), downpours, soaking rain, blowing rain, etc.

This reputation is well earned eight months out of the year, from November through June. The rain and water not only mold our geography but our style and culture as well. Fishing is a major industry here. Part of the Washington State highway system is a fleet of ferries that carry commuters across Puget Sound. Water sports, from fishing to boating, to skiing and swimming are hugely popular. Opening Day is a big Seattle event. Even the Northwest style of contemporary art is based, in part, on the study and expression of the quality of moisture-laden light in this region.

The soft grey color palate, low clouds, and the sound of the rain insulate winter days. In contrast to the frenzied outdoor culture of summer and early fall, days in winter and early spring are spent in libraries and bookstores, cinemas and theaters, coffee houses , museums and other gathering places... that is if you are not off skiing, boarding, or snowshoeing in the mountains, or out eagle-watching or winter sea kayaking or surfing (crazy loons!).

Like all natural forces, the rain and the tides are humbling as well. Winter storms and high tides wash away salt-water-front homes and heavy rains (like the recent ones) wash away river-side homes and lowland farms.

Water colors and channels life in Cascadia. It is one of the forces that shape the culture. We are fortunate for it, although on gloomy days like today, with weeks of rain in the past and more to come, its easy to forget.

Cascadia

Cascadia is an euphemism for the Pacific Northwest, but it's more than that. Cascadia refers to not only a geographical region, but also to the temperate rainforest and coastal environment of this part of the world, and the style and lifestyle typical of folks who live here.

I love where I live. It is beautiful and comfortable and accessible. Mountains are never more than an hour's drive away. In Seattle, the beach, or at least views of the water, are only a few minutes walk or drive away.

Seattle is a city with a strong sense of self. There are unifying values such as love of the outdoors, community activism, and progressive politics. And there is a range of passions that are expressed through all kinds of well-supported affinity and cultural groups: literary and political lecture series, multiple film, music and cultural festivals, a host of sporting groups and events, a strong and diverse net of social service, community, arts, and activist organizations. Even the neighborhoods have their own personalities.

(Above: A November sunrise in my neighborhood)

If you want to learn about life in Cascadia in general and Seattle specifically, check in once in a while. I have a few thoughts to share. Cascadia Song will explore art to manners, the natural environment to style, life outdoors to in, our love of dogs to our love of co-ops, culture to politics, and insights into daily life here.