Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1905-08-10
MIDSUMMER MUSINGS.
The Lover Of Nature and tho Years
High Tide.

usher in the reign or SIRIUS IN the neaV-
ems and hot humidity on earth. 1t Is
fine to simply breathe. the northern
winds are so pure and strong. as they
sweep through the trees and nutter the
corn blades in the thrifty fields. We
riot In the high glory Of the snowy
clouds that possess the skies all day,
and the skies themselves. so deeply, bril-
liantly blue Freedom itself seems rid
ing in the splendor that surpasses and
pncompasses us 1t is almost, II should
be quite, the outward and Visible sign
of an inward and spiritual grace, as
the Prayer Book says. But have we
that grace? We doubt it, in the fret Of
busy things that grasp us. and will not
let us go. The things that must be done
are dead weight on that uplift. As
a balloon trembles and sways in the
wind, anxious to be gone. but held
by the ropes that are pegged down Gloss
to the ground, so the soul shakes and
grows tremulous i'm the memorable
worldliness to which 1t Is attached We
do not rise with the clouds. we do not
float in that great blue air. we are earth
hngs, and weary in our hindrances.
What shall relieve the tension, what
shall cut the ropes and loose us for
the sport of the upper currents? For We
know not where we should he borne, or
what it is that we desire. But we know
clearly that other powers thaI We have
and nuw puspores and measures are
required for that liberia ton, and have
some doubt whether their gift will he
quick and sure enough to master those
untried atmospheres.
The summer is at it's height, brilliant.
glorious This magil ficence Of skies.
this sweep of air. are not so lovely to
the thrsting earth. and now the fall
monitions are crowding fast in the with
erng and high-coloIing vines that creep
over the earth the running blackber-
ries and the woodbine, the poison ivy
and lesser sumacs. 1t is too early for
so many pronounced anticipations of
autumn The autumn note was heard
long since. when the cicada's harsh fid-
die crashed on the ear from a
wayside oak. and the slender trilI of
the cricket was caught, just at twilight,
preluding the definite orchestra of the
parting season. OF all the months of
emphatic life, it is only June that has
poetic unity wholly its own. Or per-
APPS better to say, that while all the
spring dances in beautiful slow minu-
cts, or sprightly schottisches and waltz
cs or gives lovely songs without words.
June at once presents the perfect form
of the opening allegro in the great liv-
ing symphony of the bestowals of bloom
and fruit. 1t is that which we all love;
but the scherzo of a hot and dry July
~, ir,fn NJ
especially when the adagio is quite left
out But the players. rehearsing behind
the scenes. are even now preparing that
half-melancholy, half-happy and wholly
delicious movement which leads to the
passionate and profound angiante of
autumn. Then comfsss the prolonged,
echoing. repeating. contrapuntal finale.
After that, the funeral march!-but one
in which the gay temper of the spring
dances will burst forth at times, as If
Beethoven should borrow measures from
Mozart
1t is already time to remember the
falls that have been, as the rich tones
of the golden-rod begin to be compile
mented by the puppies of rich clover
and tick trefoil: the wild indigo
blooms in the sandy edges of the woods:
the butterfly miIkweed CLOVIS in orange.
succeeding the meadow and wood lilies:
as the favian gerardias sway their pam
icles on the hillsides in brushy pastures:
as the cone flower riots in blazing pro-
fusion over the fields For the season
of growth has passed. and the season
of fruit begins. all these distinctive flow
ers fruiting as fast as they blossom
NTH -u-iff does not nntp
in spring or early summer flowers. There
is too much now to let us pause and
rest in desired leisure. Presently we
shall again repose. when September me-
dates the departing beauty. and with
opaline hazes soften the hills and en-
chants the meadows.
Meantime many birds are singing. not
outstanding the dCtum that the season
of song ends at the flight of the young.
The woods and fields are yet full of song.
and the chewink. the woodthrush the
song sparrow. the vireos. are to be
heard in joy. The meadow lark is
missed, and the redwing. the veery. are
mainly silent: and in this period of be-
tweenity the crow and the bluejay are
scarcely in evidence: Who knows why
or where they are gone? Hawks are
sailing the solitary eagle beats his vast
wings far over the forests. but there is
a pause in all Nature. which all feel,
though not all recognize the significance
thereof.
How marvellous is this immortality of
earth and the creatures of earth. And
mans chief part in it is to destroy. One
after another he encroaches on the pre-
negatives of Nature. taking no heed of
what he is doing to his own sure injury.
BY the time that our proud civilization
reaches to the point when it knows what
it has done, there will not be too much
left to save. 1t is strange that with all
the light of science thrown upon the
necessity of that cordial balance of liv-
ing things which was ordained. the en-
lightenment of man is SO insufficient to
protect the essentials of his very con-
tinuance in this his habitation. 1t was
prepared for him, ne is sure, but as he
acts, prepared but to ruin for his pet
ty moment, not to reserve for his con-
tinuous enjoyment and benefit. The same
illimitaplc spirit that breathes through
human life expresses itself no less
worthily in the herbs of the field and
the birds of the air. For SO. as 1t has