Somehow the rain and mist in Oregon are very different from the Ithaca brand. There the lead-colored winter sky is always "squatting so close over us tonight you'd think it was trying to hatch us" (Bruce Cockburn). In Oregon, the mist and rain moves and changes, snagged in trees and hills, with sunbreaks and sudden clear patches.
My brother just walked by with a pint in his hand and threatened to get out the Scrabble board. Those are fighting words, and I must go rise to the challenge.