A prodigious miracle has happened.
It is not yet mid-April, but the Spirit of Life has stirred in every
bole and bough; every twig and tendril. The awakening has been so
gradual, so stealthy, so silent, that not until this afternoon did I
notice that the far reaching brown world over which I daily looked, had
changed.
I had been doing some rough carpentering--building a bench on either
side of my doorway outside, using a broad plank I had found in the
kitchen for the purpose. It is true I had chairs, and chairs are more
comfortable, but it has struck me that the Lodge would look better with
these benches in front; would have a more finished appearance. So I
knocked them up quickly. Now on the further rim of my plateau grows a
single pine; a tall, many-limbed, graceful tree. Somehow the thought was
born that a bench under this pine would not be placed amiss, so I walked
toward it to investigate the idea at close range. Its lowest branches
shot out more than two feet over my head, and as I passed under them I
obtained a fresh and unobstructed view of a tremendous reach of
landscape. Instantly my mind received the impression that something had
happened. The entire perspective was subtly transformed.
Before me was nothing but trees--a vast valley full; slopes clothed with
them and peaks capped with them. And each tree was touched with mystery;
the familiar, never to be understood transmutation of sap to bud and
leaf. The effect from where I stood was not beautiful only; it awoke a
positive awe in my heart. The immense area comprehended by my gaze was
undergoing resurrection. Painless, soundless, without effort, the
ancient forest was coming back to life; to green, vigorous, waving and
dancing life. The process was as yet scarcely begun, but already it was
a veracious promise of perfect fulfillment. A tenuous, lacey veil of
pale, elusive green seemed stretched over all growth within the scope of
my vision. A misty, unreal something it appeared; a gossamer covering
which would vanish before the first breath of wind, or touch of sun. But
well I knew the truth! It was the sun, and the wind, and the rain which
had compassed the wonder. Beneath their united power the sluggish sap
had first stirred in the hidden roots, and when the insistent summons
became more and more powerful, had mysteriously arisen through
successive cells of fiber, up and up, into every branch, into every
limb, into the smallest and most insignificant twig, where Nature's
final marvelous alchemy was performed, and moisture turned to bud, and
bud turned to leaf. A leaf perfectly shaped and veined, each to its own
tree.
Dusk came upon me as I gazed, enraptured. Softly the light stole away,
and the shadows came. Now the horizon range was a wall of gloom, and
then, like billows which made no sound, velvety waves of darkness
overflowed all before me, blotting it out. But I know that to-morrow the
lacey veil would have a deeper shade, and that soon, with millions upon
millions of leaves astir, the Harpist of the Wood, when he touched his
responsive strings, would draw yet a grander measure.
No bench went under the pine tree that night, but the next day I builded
it well. It is a fine spot to sit and dream--a pastime I love.