“April is the cruelest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot exactly one hundred years ago in the opening stanza of The Waste Land. The famous first line reads like an indictment of the fourth month as Eliot yearns to stave off vernal rebirth and remain in the stillness that precedes spring: April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead …

In early December, the sun sets on Mt. Rainier at an abysmal 4:20 p.m. For the winter backcountry adventurer, watching the sun dip below the horizon does not suggest a leisurely postprandial pursuit for lounging around camp sipping from a flask. When sunset comes at the time my deskbound self would be brewing an afternoon pick-me-up to carry me through …

After a conspicuously dry fall, the 2019 winter solstice was wet and wild in the Pacific Northwest as a Pineapple Express drenched the region with moisture. Seattle shattered a 120-year-old precipitation record by over an inch, but my hopes for liquid gold turning to powder in the high country after an agonizingly slow start to the ski season were dashed. …