CAMEOS OF AUTUMN

Dominion, Volume 33, Issue 187, 4 May 1940, Page 18

CAMEOS OF AUTUMN

Morning, Afternoon and Evening

'J’HE sky was grey, the air cold, a thick mist shrouded the world; it hung from the grass and clung to the sleeping flowers. Silence reigned in the air. Slowly, in the east, the sky changed from grey to red tinted with yellow and orange. The mellow light spread over the sky and soon the grey clouds remained only over the misty mountains. Then from the golden clouds the sun’s first ray shot up. As the sun rose the damp trees and grass glistened like jewels, and a lovely perfume came into the silvery morning air.

Down in the valley the purple shadows disappeared as the sun rose higher. The river sparkled with bril-

limit Hashes as the rising sun was reflected in the water. 'The birds woke and trilled their joyous morning songs. A rooster erowed and a co.v was heat'd lowing in the distance. Slowly the world awakened. The morning had come.—Snow Fairy (10). Takapan. The Afternoon

T WAS walking through a garden the * other day, scrunching the dry, brown leaves beneath my feet and admiring all the beauty around me, when I realized that Autumn, with its flaunting gay banners, crisp air and blue skies, was the most glamorous of the seasons. Every tree seemed to have its part in the carnival of colour, even those evergreens (that stand staunchly green throughout the winter months) had an occasional yellowing leaf. My first discovery was the mulberry tree that had given such luscious berries in the summer, and was now a mass of leaves of the purest yellow. The branches reached to the ground in some places and there were a few scattered

leaves on the grass. Close by, the wisteria tendrils were turning gold. There were several trees whose small leaves were entirely of a rssset golden colour, and when I peeled off some of the tissue-thin bark, I could feel the velvety cream flesh beneath. The poplars had lost nearly all their yellow glory and the loinbardies stretched up their bare fingers to the sky with a few dry leaflets clinging to them. The rowan berries had long since gone but the little crab-apple trees bordering the path had fruit of the deepest red, and the scarlet laurel berries showed up shining against the dark, glistening leaves. The Japanese maple had the most beautiful leaves of all, with every autumnal shade in them.

A very light shower started to fall

from the greying sky. The air was faintly clouded with hazy smoke from a garden fire of dry leaves that baa been lit in a corner. Somehow this atmosphere gave me the feeling that though the garden looked glittering and gay in the sunshine, it seemed mellower in the soft air of mist and smoke, and I could feel Autumn slipping gracefully into Winter.—Hune (16), Wellington. And The Evening

The other evening I was walking home through the dusk. The air was calm and crisp and scented with the slightly acrid smell of burning leaves which' the cool breeze was wafting. Suddenly I had the feeling that I was the only person alive, all was so quiet. Everything seemed to be waiting with a hushed expectancy for something. Then a star began to twinkle and the whole spell was broken. The breeze freshened and loosened a few drying leaves from the tree above me. They fluttered down and one settled on my shoulder. “That’s good luck,” I mur-

mured to myself and I wished to stay longer in among those old trees. But the air was cold, so I- hurried on my way home to a roaring log tire and a book. Later I realized that I must have caught the Spirit of Autumn in those few minutes in the bush. Before that I thought I disliked Autumn because it heralded winter, now I realize that is just an aged Summer sinking gracefully to rest, because she is simply too tired to go on.—Symbols (14), Pahiatua.