There are spring days in Oregon that feel borrowed from somewhere else.
Most of the time, April arrives with a little bit of a warning label. The sky can change its mind by the hour. A morning that begins with promise can turn sideways by lunch, and a day that looks lost can suddenly break open under a strip of blue. That is part of living here. You learn to keep a jacket close, even when the sun is out. You learn not to trust the forecast too much. You learn that spring is less a season than a negotiation.
But Saturday did not ask anyone to negotiate.
