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December in Seattle began with sheets of rain and high winds. Rivers overflowed, roads closed, and familiar trails turned into temporary streams. I’ve been watching weather reports to find brief periods when the winds subside. Last year, a bomb cyclone ripped through Issaquah in November, knocking down trees in the Issaquah Alps. This year, the warm saturated air and heavy winds of the “Pineapple Express” are wreaking havoc throughout the Pacific Northwest. Yet I’m reminded that whenever the world floods — physically and metaphorically — we can still look for the clearings.

On December 2, I expected my Whittaker Wilderness loop hike to be a boot soaker. Instead, the clouds pulled back just long enough for our group of nine to meander toward Shy Bear Pass and stop for an early lunch at Doughty Falls. Though wet, the trail was well-drained and in great condition, and the forest held that clean, deep-green, after-rain scent that always makes me smile. A window in the weather ends up as a portal back to myself.

Taking A Midday Recharge Break

The next week brought similar moments. On December 3 and 5, I stayed local and took Ajax birding near Jackson Park and to the Boeing Creek /Shoreview park in Shoreline. Ajax trotted beside me as though the burst cyst on his chest didn’t bother him in the least. Being out for a few hours improved the rest of the workday and boosted both of our spirits.

The Mountaineers’ North Sound Leadership Conference on December 6 held another small clearing. As soon as the morning sessions ended, I took Ajax (patiently waiting in the car) for a windy 90-minute birding walk through the wetlands. We enjoyed seeing everything from buffleheads, to wind surfers on Lake Washington. A few sunbeams slipped through the clouds, illuminating the ponds just long enough to make me smile.

That break mattered more than I realized. The topic of my afternoon session was death and near-misses in the mountains. A year ago, material like that shut me down completely and made me question whether I was up for leading. This time, however, I stayed present. I could listen without freezing, absorb the information without feeling overwhelmed. That recharge walk in the middle of the day made all the difference—ninety minutes of air, movement, and quiet listening. It gave me enough steadiness to handle a tough topic.

Hiking in a Narrow Weather Window

Two days later, on December 9, I had planned to lead a 9 mile hike to Big Creek and Otter Falls, but flood warnings made me rethink our destination. Instead, I shifted us to a loop hike on Squak including May Valley, Debbie’s View, and Central Peak. I sent out an update, prepared for a smaller turnout. Six hikers showed up anyway. Faithful. Trusting. Ready for rejuvenation, despite the floods.

We ended up hiking in a narrow band of dry weather between two storm systems. Water cascaded down the trail in places, but we had zero rain. Those who participated brought a sense of humor and joy that matched the day. I loved watching them settle into the trail, taking what the weather offered rather than wishing for something else. Their willingness to show up—in imperfect flood conditions—lifted my spirits in a way I didn’t know I needed. Kindred spirits, eager to enjoy whatever Nature had to show us.

At the end of our hike, we all agreed that the big takeaway was show up. For life. For hikes. Much like my recent personal commitment to “go with the flow” and be flexible, we can’t know what we’ll find unless we arrive at the trailhead, ready to face anything.

Choosing Wisely

Not every opportunity needs to be taken, though. I stepped back from a Nisqually birding trip planned for tomorrow. Part of me strongly resisted withdrawing, but the more carefully I listened, the clearer I got. A full-day outing, without a carpool (my rider withdrew at the last minute), in uncertain conditions, didn’t feel right. Ajax’s growing cyst is a concern. My daughter is finally home for the holidays. And with the region under serious stress from flooding, adding more drivers on the road feels dangerous.

There will be plenty of other chances to bird at the Nisqually, likely in spring, when the birds begin their northward migration and the daylight hours are longer. For now, staying local feels like the better match for my energy and responsibilities. That decision, too, felt like a clearing.

What These Clearings Showed Me

A few weeks ago I wrote a mission statement about building a life where my work, passions, and self-nourishment strengthen one another. These two weeks gave me a lived example of what that can look like.

Work showed up in the leadership conference and in guiding hikers through uncertain conditions. Passion surfaced during every birding walk and forest loop with Ajax and fellow hikers. And nourishment came through the small choices—stepping outside to ground or walk whenever a window opened, shifting a hike when the weather demanded it, staying home when that felt wiser.

None of the days were dramatic. None were perfect. But each offered something steadying: a moment of light, a trail that held, a dog happy to be with me outside, a group willing to hike even when the forecast for floods looked risky. I felt a quiet evolution in myself too—an increased capacity to handle difficult material, a clearer sense of my limits, and a growing trust in my ability to choose safely and well.

Floods may continue. Trails will need time to recover. But these small openings have been enough to remind me that even in stormy seasons, the world offers clearings if I stay willing to look for them.

And often, those clearings hold exactly what I need in the moment.

Journal Prompts: Finding Your Own Clearings in Stormy Seasons

If you like, grab a pen or your laptop and explore a few of the prompts below. Who knows, you may just find your own solace in a season of storms.

1. Shifts: Where in the past few weeks have you noticed a small opening — a moment, a pause, or a shift — that felt like a clearing in an otherwise challenging stretch? What allowed it to appear?
2. Aids: What helps your nervous system settle when life feels flooded or saturated? Do you find solace in movement, quiet, nature, conversation, stillness, boundaries?
3. Modifications: Think of a time you adjusted a plan recently. What did that change reveal about your capacity, your priorities, or your growth?
4. Just Show Up: Who or what helps you show up even when conditions aren’t ideal? What supports your resilience, and what drains it?
5. Planning: What’s one small, realistic way you could create a clearing for yourself this week — something that makes enough space to breathe, think, or come back to yourself?

Feel free to share in the comments. I love hearing from readers.