Along The Coast And Throughout The Greater Part Of Western Oregon In
General, Snow Seldom Falls On The Lowlands To A Greater Depth Than A
Few Inches, And Never Lies Long.
Grass is green all winter.
The
average temperature for the year in the Willamette Valley is about 52
degrees, the highest and lowest being about 100 degrees and 20
degrees, though occasionally a much lower temperature is reached.
The average rainfall is about fifty or fifty-five inches in the
Willamette Valley, and along the coast seventy-five inches, or even
more at some points - figures that bring many a dreary night and day to
mind, however fine the effect on the great evergreen woods and the
fields of the farmers. The rainy season begins in September or
October and lasts until April or May. Then the whole country is
solemnly soaked and poulticed with the gray, streaming clouds and
fogs, night and day, with marvelous constancy. Towards the beginning
and end of the season a good many bright days occur to break the
pouring gloom, but whole months of rain, continuous, or nearly so, are
not at all rare. Astronomers beneath these Oregon skies would have a
dull time of it. Of all the year only about one fourth of the days
are clear, while three fourths have more or less of fogs, clouds, or
rain.
The fogs occur mostly in the fall and spring. They are grand, far-reaching affairs of two kinds, the black and the white, some of the
latter being very beautiful, and the infinite delicacy and tenderness
of their touch as they linger to caress the tall evergreens is most
exquisite. On farms and highways and in the streets of towns, where
work has to be done, there is nothing picturesque or attractive in any
obvious way about the gray, serious-faced rainstorms. Mud abounds.
The rain seems dismal and heedless and gets in everybody's way. Every
face is turned from it, and it has but few friends who recognize its
boundless beneficence. But back in the untrodden woods where no axe
has been lifted, where a deep, rich carpet of brown and golden mosses
covers all the ground like a garment, pressing warmly about the feet
of the trees and rising in thick folds softly and kindly over every
fallen trunk, leaving no spot naked or uncared-for, there the rain is
welcomed, and every drop that falls finds a place and use as sweet and
pure as itself. An excursion into the woods when the rain harvest is
at its height is a noble pleasure, and may be safely enjoyed at small
expense, though very few care to seek it. Shelter is easily found
beneath the great trees in some hollow out of the wind, and one need
carry but little provision, none at all of a kind that a wetting would
spoil. The colors of the woods are then at their best, and the mighty
hosts of the forest, every needle tingling in the blast, wave and sing
in glorious harmony.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 117 of 159
Words from 60425 to 60935
of 82482