In Seattle, Washington, where the number of rainy days in some years approaches 200, there's an old saying: It rains only twice a year, August to April and May to July.

If you are beginning to feel like you upped and moved clear across the continental United States, I don't blame you. At least this spring we can all sympathize with Seattle's residents, who, I am told, never die; they simply rust out.

I've done my share of complaining about the weather over the last few months. First it was a drought that wouldn't end, then the winter that was never over, and now the rain that won't quit.

But there's a silver lining in these meteorological events that have all come together like a dark cloud. In fact, just the like the dark clouds that were spinning around a series of low pressure troughs over the Great Lakes during most of May.

While occluding our view of a lunar eclipse and then spoiling almost everyone's outdoor plans for Memorial Day weekend cook-outs, there has been a bright side to all of the chilly, wet weather.

This spring's rain, coupled with last year's drought has produced spectacular displays of flowers on the shrubs. Or at least so it seems. Maybe it's simply the long winter that left us all yearning for anything green with a flower on it.

I'll leave that to the philosophers and the psychologists to figure out. What I do know-and I don't need an ophthalmologist to confirm-is that azaleas, rhododendrons, and other flowering shrubs are covered with a profusion of white, pink, and purple this year. The contrast with the verdant growth of new leaves is striking.

There are several theories offered for the abundance of flowers.

Bob Baumann is the manager of "Max Is Back," a garden center located on Route 23 south in Butler, New Jersey. Several years ago when another wet spring came on the heels of a drought the previous year, he explained to me that shrubs like mountain laurel and rhododendron tend to be cyclical in their flowering displays, having peak years every second or third year. "One year they'll be loaded, and the next so-so," he said.

But Baumann also added that flowering shrubs set their buds in the prior year. "What is really important is how much rain the area received last autumn," he said.

While this year's wet spring may be producing loads of green growth, especially on lawns, it has had little to do with the spectacular floral displays.

Oddly enough, it's the drought of 2002 that has played a larger role. When the ground was dry and parched last summer, virtually every shrub was in a life and death struggle. Some didn't make it, succumbing to the weather. But those that did manage to survive did so under enormous stress.

One of the results was the production of more flower buds. Flower buds become flowers which when pollinated generate seeds. Seeds guarantee offspring for future generations. The plants, bracing for a worst-case scenario had last year's drought signaled the beginning of a multiyear weather pattern of less than normal precipitation, channeled their energy into survival.

And we are the benefactors.

We humans are infatuated with flowers. This love affair is ingrained in us, beginning at the dawn of creation when God placed man and woman in a garden called Eden and said, "I have given you…every tree whose fruit yields seed." To this day, we relish our gardens, whether they are postage stamp sized urban plots or sprawling botanical displays set in suburbia. We spend huge sums of money and toil untold hours to get them to look just right.

I don't know if we managed to stumble onto the secret of happiness among the residents of Seattle in this column but one thing is for sure: it's been damp and cool here in the northeast and maybe even a little frustrating. But complaining about it won't alter the course of the jet stream or change the barometric pressure one millibar.

So enjoy the flowers. Let them help you to forget about this year's gloomy spring.

"Real Answers™" furnished courtesy of The Amy Foundation Internet Syndicate. To contact the author or The Amy Foundation, write or E-mail to: P. O. Box 16091, Lansing, MI 48901-6091; [email protected]. Visit our website at www.amyfound.org.