Grandma defies the rain in her purple raincoat . . .
The mountains are out, not clear, but more like a hazy Japanese print with the snow fading into the sky. It doesn’t seem real – it’s like more as if you are in an art gallery – gazing in the wonder.
The air is full of moisture – it’s as if we are just suspended here slowly soaking up moisture – oh well, it must be good for the skin.
Spit rain a few times, altogether a real “pissy” day. Why do Seattleites wear so much grey – so they will blend? Maybe that’s why I get so many smiling faces when I wear my bright purple raincoat.
I love that second paragraph. Grandma, you have a great way with words!