Thinking about the Pacific Northwest in June is dangerous. One can handle living across the country from PNW in the winter and even the spring. One can cope knowing that it’s 50 degrees and rainy on a nice day. But to think about it in June, your heart will break. The explosion of wild flowers, the berry picking, the flocks of people lying on grass for hours becoming one with the sun. The meaning of being golden – that is summer in the PNW.
No. You cannot think about it. You’ll miss it too much. And you’ll start looking at plane tickets that range from $400-600 and you’ll think, $100 per hour of travel, is it worth it? And it’ll be worth it, because your entire life savings would be worth it, but you know you can’t because the return trip will rocket you into a fit of depression that may last forever.
When you think about the PNW in the June, you’ll start feeling like you’re wasting your life living any other place but the PNW. You’ll see the tall pines without closing your eyes, they’ll pop up in meetings and while driving. You’ll see the fawns scurrying around office corners, you’ll see the baby bunnies jumping into burrows that don’t exist. No matter how beautiful and tropical your surroundings you’ll miss the earthy smell of summer in the PNW. The trees here may have flowers that bloom yellow, then orange, then red, then purple. You may be able to swim in the ocean here. But the land is too flat. The plants too manicured. You need that messy undergrowth, that infinite spread of ferns under tall evergreen trees, you need the muted colors illuminated by the endless summer sun.
No, one cannot think about the PNW in June without feeling the full force of its distance. Without feeling the terrible regret for what you have done. But, one cannot not think about it. The PNW in June. The PNW in July. The PNW in August. The PNW in September. That is the meaning of life as you know it.