The following quote was taken from the introduction to the Atlas of Oregon, Second Edition. It was originally published in 1940 in the preface of OREGON, End of the Trail, by the Writers' Program of the Work Projects Administration. The author is anonymous. It sums up my feelings about Oregon quite well and inspired me to change the name of my blog.
"It is not only the native son of pioneers who feels this affection for the land. The newcomer at first may smile at the attitude of Oregonians towards their scenery and their climate. But soon he will refer to Mt. Hood as "our mountain" --significantly, not as "The Mountain," as Seattlites speak of Mt. Rainier. Soon he will try to purchase a home-site from which he can view it. And before a year of life in Oregon has passed, the sheer splendor of peaks and pines, the joy of shouting trout-filled mountain streams, the satisfying quiet of Douglas firs, the beauty of roses that bloom at Christmas, the vista of rolling wooded hills and meadows always lush and green, the scenic climax of a fiery sun sinking into earth's most majestic ocean--all will have become a part of his daily happiness, undefined and unrecognized in his consciousness, but something so vital that he can never again do without it. And he will even, as do the natives, find merit in the long winter of dismal skies and warm but chilling rains, calling himself a "webfoot" and stoutly proclaiming he likes it--when all the while he means that he considers it poor sportsmanship to complain, since he knows that this is the annual tax he pays for eternal verdure, for trees and grass and ferns and ivy and hydrangeas and holly, and for the priviledge of appreciating by contrast the short bright rainless summer cooled by the softest yet most invigorating northerly winds.