. . . . You may be the one who really loves the super green dense woods and love the wild rugged mountains and lifestyle. There are folks there that would never ever want to live anywhere else. . . .
I am one of them, loving the rain, the lush green, and all of it. This stems from an experience I had when three years old. My mother threw open the window letting the wind and rain pour in as she shouted "Make it lightning, God!" Almost instantly there was a bright triple flash. Then she said, "Now make the thunder roar!" and it did, right after she said it. She kept this up for a while, keeping me close to her where I could feel the rain blowing in through the window like a warm summer shower on my skin. I thought I was being caressed by God, convinced God was right outside the window, listening to my mother's every word and doing exactly what she said. As a result, I have always felt the happiest, most peaceful, and close to nature/God/spirit when I smell/hear/see/feel the rain coming down. That experience is my ecstasy. I still feel the touch of rain is God caressing me.
But about Texas: To me, Texas seems mostly hot, dry, and flat, none of which I have ever liked. Plus I've had an irrational phobia of scorpions my entire life.
Long ago, I went to Washington by myself and lived not far from Forks for two years, which were the happiest two years of my life. I had been lured there by a book of colored nature photos shown to me by friends of my parents who had just returned. They were pictures of the Hoh Valley Park - Rain Forest showing mountains, rivers, lakes, huge trees, hanging moss, falling rain, things I'd only seen in my dreams. These photos instantly started my heart craving to go there and never return. But after those two years, I felt obligated to Texas to be supportive to relatives now old and needing me.
It's now been 40 years
since I returned from Washington, and am now alone and free to do whatever I want. Never having been back to the Northwest even for a visit, I felt I better ask you about the people and conditions there. Forty years is a long time and I don't want to go into shock over seeing how things have changed in four decades. What if it's become an endless sea of homeless tents, with so much trash blown up against the trees you can't even see them!
Happily, your description sounds like it's about the same as when i left 40 years ago. (I truly am relieved.) There were a few "jerks" along with a lot of really fine people back then too. And I really am glad "it is a loooonnnngggg way away from just about anything else" as you said. That's just the way I like it. I did then. I will now. . . . . Many thanks, vanbrat.