We halted here not so much, because we wanted the honey, but to
have more time in which to take a last look at the valley. What
a picture it made! The few scattered houses reposing in the
valley or nestling along the edge of the towering hills made a
frame for the rich green and gold of the fields whenever the sun
peeped out from behind the clouds. Higher up we caught the
outlines of the hills whose light, gray sides of purest aspect,
peeping froth their rich verdure, made a picture which we can
never forget. The rustic homes scattered about had always some
noble elms to shelter them. Soon we beheld clusters of wooded
heights with here and there a single pointed summit rising above
the rest. Each spot possessed a beauty, differing only in its
type and not in quantity.
Again we were traveling along a trout stream that sang its songs
of freedom as cheerily as the cardinal or vireo nearby. A glow
of color permeated its banks where it was more open. A host of
blue mints, fragrant burgamot, and glowing masses of cardinal
flowers attracted the eye. Over these hovered, like larger
flowers, the black and yellow tiger swallowtail, argynnis,
painted lady, and mourning-cloak butterflies. Earlier in the
season laurel and honeysuckle shed their fragrance into it.
Blackberries, redbud and dogwood enliven its banks in the
spring, and we saw where hepatica, bloodroot, and anemone grew
in abundance.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280