Grey heart, because that's the exact color of the sky from October to April, and honestly the exact color of your soul by week three of not seeing the sun. This isn't love. This isn't hate. This is the specific emotional flatline of scraping ice off your windshield in May, paying nine bucks for a gallon of milk, and letting a moose decide whether or not you're going to work today.
You stay anyway. Because the salmon is unreal, the mountains make the rest of the country look like a parking lot, and nowhere else do mosquitoes travel in formation like they're staging an invasion. Grey heart says it all: numb, caffeinated, weirdly content.
Built soft enough to live in during a four day storm, with a fit that doesn't quit after the wash cycle. Thick, cozy, and ready to layer under a parka or get worn straight through fish camp without complaint.
