The morning of our journey was as fair as a July morning could
be. Near the western horizon a few pearl-colored clouds hung
motionless, as though the wind had been withdrawn to other
skies. There was always that mysterious blue haze over the
higher ridges and that soft light that fills the atmosphere and
creates the sense of lovely "unimaginable spaces." It overhung
the far rolling landscape of wheat fields, pastures and wood,
crowning with a soft radiance the remoter low swelling hilltops
and deepened into dreamy half shadows on their western slopes.
Nearer, it fell on the rich gold of ripening wheat that lay in
the valley or gleamed like golden crowns on the level space at
the very summits of high hills; nearer still it touched with
spring-like brilliancy the level green of meadows that clothed
other uplands, where groups of Jersey cattle grazed beneath the
shade of graceful elms; yet nearer it caught the rich foliage of
blossoming chestnut trees and lit them up like crowns of ermine.
In the immediate foreground it fell on the road that made
continual windings along the edge of a steep ravine. How we
rejoiced at the prospect and the warm, glowing sunshine! Right
at the road's edge grew Christmas lady, sensitive and woodsia
ferns, mealy-bell-wort, true and false Solomon's Seal, ground
ginger, greenbrier, smilax and flaming cardinal flowers which
were lit up with flying gleams of sunshine, forming great masses
of tremulous shifting mosaic of rarer and older designs than any
that Persia or India yet know.
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