Born in the deep dark Siuslaw woods

Tupso was happy enough to be born where she was in the deep dark Siuslaw forest. Trees there (smelling like cedar chests and Christmas Night and eucalyptus globulus) rose up off the forest floor and kept on going, some so big around that twelve little Indians holding hands couldn't reach around them or skip within their undergrowth of manzanita, salal, thimbleberries, ferns and rotting logs (asleep in lycopods and moss) that once were part of templed majesty. . . . I also started life in the Siuslaw woods, probably not fifty feet from the wickiup where Tupso was born. It was still a wilderness but the part down close to the Siuslaw, where you could look across the river and see the little town of Florence, Oregon, thought of itself as enough of an entity to have a name. And so it had one, the founder's two oldest children's names, Glen and Ada, put together to make GLENADA. I brought Glenada’s population up to 117 and if the Titanic had not gone down the very night I was born, taking up the whole front page and almost the whole next edition of the Florence Gazette, I am sure that fact would have been given prominence.
     --From Ardyth's memoir Bodies Adjacent