108-172. Counting the Rain Drops

December 2025:

In so many ways, Portland is synonymous with rain. We receive about three feet of the wet stuff annually, which keeps our urban forests green and our gardens colorful. Everyone in town has an opinion on the relative merits of umbrellas. Perhaps our most famous piece of public art is the statue of a hurried businessman holding an umbrella.

And boy oh boy: Do our meteorologists find a lot of ways to talk about the rain. When rain is a regular occurrence between October and April, which it usually is, you’d better get good at letting Portlanders know what they’re in for—and our hard-working meteorologists have turned that into an art form.

Last fall, I started keeping tabs of the many ways that Portland news stations described the different kinds of rain in five-day forecasts. I took notes whenever I scrolled past a meteorologist’s update on my Facebook feed, took photos of the morning’s weather report on my gym’s overhead televisions, and occasionally tuned into the nightly news.

I stopped keeping tabs after a few months—but not until I’d documented a whopping 64 unique ways that local news stations described the simple, unremarkable, frequent instances of unfrozen water falling from the sky.

Typically, Portland precipitation doesn’t fall all day and night—but rather as a shower, a few showers, light showers, or a few light showers. (What's the difference between light showers and a few light showers?) Once last year, we received lighter showers, which begged the question: lighter than what?

Occasionally, meteorologists warn us of frequent showers or numerous showers. If they're not sure, they might hedge and predict a possible shower or chance showers. When they’re more confident, I’ve got bad news: rain likely.

When winds are high enough to topple the occasional tree branch and knock over the stray recycling bin, forecasts call for breezy showers; breezy, late showers; or few showers & breezy.

Sometimes, scattered showers send us into the nearest coffee shop; other times, showers come & go. Both descriptors feel redundant; after all, what are showers but scattered bursts of rainfall? Isn't the role of a shower, by definition, to come and go?

I must be missing something, because we also contend with light rain, light rain & windy, or light rain arriving. If the rain is arriving like an unwanted house guest, as it often does, can we simply not open the door? Maybe we turn the lights off and hope that Mother Nature thinks no one is home?

The time of day matters, too, as evidenced by the occasional morning that starts showery, as well as forecasts for A.M. showers, rainy/cool start, late-day showers, and afternoon showers possible.

We might have a showery lunch or a wet lunch, at which point it’s turning wet or turning rainy P.M. After the sun sets, we may suffer through a rainy commute and brace for a showery evening, a wet evening, a showery night, or a rainy night, which I’m sure are all different. Sometimes, it’s rain late that inspires me to spend a little extra time at the neighborhood bookshop. Once in a while, we’re lucky enough to enjoy a dry P.M. (but almost never on Halloween).

When the weather calls for a pot of soup on the stove and a puzzle on the coffee table, it’s probably a wet day or a rainy day. We might suffer through heavy showers. Rain returns and rain develops, does it ever, which usually means rainy & breezy, rainy & cool, or just plain rainy. Maybe a throw a blanket on your lap for peak coziness.

When autumn’s first real rainstorm rolls in every October, it marks the return of wet weather—and will probably be cool & rainy, wet and cool, or cool & wet. The storm may bring with it steady rain. Soggy, breezy is a poetic way to polish a turd of a day; so is some dry spots. A bit wetter feels, frankly, a little passive-aggressive.

Sometimes, meteorologists throw their hands up and declare it showery or say showers around. I empathize with their attempts to find new ways of writing the same thing.

Fairly often, we'll see rain and blue skies on the same day—described in forecasts as sun & showers or, on especially volatile days, warmer, showers & sun mix. That’s when you wear a waterproof outer layer over your water-resistant shell, just in case. (You’re probably in the clear if the day will be mainly dry, but it can’t hurt to pack that shell, anyway.)

Eventually, showers end—or showers die down. (Is that not what showers do?) At that point, we’re drying out or it’s dry at times. Either way, it's a light at the end of the tunnel—as long as rain to showers, showers & cooler, or showers & sun don't await on the other side.

Most days, it’s just rain or showers. But never, no matter the station, is it ever rain showers.

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