When comes the final
garnet glow not even the cold snows of winter can quench it.
[Illustration: "THE SUMAC'S TORCHES LIGHT UP THE OLD ROAD" (p. 35)]
Around the fence-post, where the versi-colored fungus grows, the
moon-seed winds its stems, like strands of twine. Its broad leaves are
set like tilted mirrors to catch and reflect the light. Trailing among
the grass the pea-vine lifts itself so that its blossoms next month
shall attract the bees. The wild hop is reaching over the bushes for
the branches of the low-growing elm from which to hang its fruit
clusters. Circling up the trunk and the spreading branches of the elm,
the Virginia creeper likewise strives for better and greater light.
Flower and vine, shrub and tree, each with its own peculiar inherited
tendencies resulting from millions of years of development, strives
ever for perfection. Shall man, with the civilization of untold
centuries at his back to push him on, do less? Endowed with mind and
heart, with spiritual aspirations and a free will, shall he dare cease
to grow? Equipped so magnificently for the light, dare he deliberately
seek the darkness and allow his mental and spiritual fruits to wither?
These are questions to ponder as the afternoon shadows lengthen.
If you walk through the wooded pasture, close by the side of the
roadside fence, the hollow stumps hold rain-water, like huge tankards
for a feast.
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