I love all trees, but I am in love with pines.
The cypresses are always occupying my thoughts.
I always think of the Pacific Northwest as giant trees and rain and clouds and dampness, like the Native American art from that area. That all says Pacific Northwest to me. Salmon. It really only exists on the Western side of the Cascades.
Interspersed in lawn and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each others' shades.
The Pacific Northwest, and particularly Whidbey Island, is extremely suited to be a location in a novel.
I grew up in Seattle, where there isn't a lot of sun.
Only the soldier pines and sentinels still showed green; the broadleaf trees had donned mantles of russet and gold, or else uncloaked themselves to scratch against the sky with branches brown and bare.
These mountains appear to be almost entirely composed of stratas of rock of various colours (mostly red) and are partially covered with a dwarfish growth of pine and cedar, which are the only species of timber to be seen.
I like living in Washington.
I am such a Pacific Northwest girl.
