French Broad hustler. [volume] (Hendersonville, N.C.) 1916-1919, 1917-04-26
An Aprl malk
{ BY LILA RIPLEY BARNWELL1
of Hendersonville. NJ. c

M nave eaten OF WOOu Magic IS d
fatal thing for those whose duties lie
within four walls. Just a taste, and
ever after you are unable to resist the
voices of silence that persistently
persue you from the depths of the
woods. Duty may urge, as she will
but stronger than every plea b can
make will be that intangible lure OF
the out of doors.
So. al powerful Is this compelling
force to me that it is my belief, that
in some u~nguarded moment I not only
tasted Wood Magic, but ate a whole
bush!I No one knows where it grows,
no one even knows what it looks like,
so at any time it is possible to take
the taste which forever makes you the
loving companion of all things in
Gods garden.
Nature is inannimate and passive
only to those who do not love and I'M
derstand her. To her faithful friends
there is a voice in every lower a
tongue in every plant, a song in every
stream, the very soil and the great
masses of granite tell the history of
/ the ages in a maner indisputably con-
vincing.
This morning as I threw open my
blinds, to set what miracle had come
to pass during the night, my eyes
rested upon the mountains, which but
a few days ago, looked cold and gray.
almost stern and forbidding in their
baroness and absolute restitution of
verdue save here and there the dark
green of a pine, almost black in its
winter needles.
From late in November to the lat
ter part of March there has never been
a day but that I could see snow upon
these everlasting hills, yet beautiful
and grand as the frost king makes u
land, the storm and stress of the long
and severe winter has left me some
what weather beaten, n | am more
than ready to welcome a breath OF
spring.
And 10! today there was a change,
the south wind whispered it as 1t
futtered the curtains, and IN the dis
tant tree tops my eyes ~rejofcingly saw
that strange, exquisite commingling OF
soft pastal shades which{ April so
freely uses in her decorations, With
a sigh | turned from this alurement
to a heap of darning on the table and
resOlutely~ took up my needle. Sigh
ing deeply | persistently bent to my
task, not daring to raise my eyes I'M
til a bounding step on the stairway,
and a joyous barkAt my door told me
that Somebody. like myself, had
heard the call.
In a most expressive language OF
the eyes he begged to go for a tramp,
and when l said mo today, it is i'm
possible" he dropped to my feet
Wit ha disappointed thud, cycling me
steadily to see if there might be some
hope of a change of mind, that de-
Iightful privilege usually accorded a
woman. Somebody kept wagging
his tail and looking, the south wind
blew my thread away, and brought in
a subtle, Elusive perfume from grow
ing things outside, and a red-bird in
the maple at the gate. began to-tell
the glorious charm of a life in he
sunshine.
1t was too much. Throwing the
darning aside, 1 do not know where.
and snatching a shade hat, 1 ran down
stairs, followed by the delighted
Somebody.
In an almost apologize tone I told
my Sister that we were going out for
q little while, then away we vent in
joyful anticipation of the woods be-
yond. W
The creek seemed in an unusual
hurry as l sV pped on = e bridge to
notice the polished pebbles, sc plainly
visible in /the clear depths. Some
body splashed happily in the deepest
place he could find throwing the
shining water over his broad back,
and making nae envy his impromptu
bath.
For awhile we followed the dusty
road. but by-ways are more attractive
than highways. and we soon turned
to a path leading under the shadow
of the pines.
Noiselessly we proceeded along the
thick carpet of tan needles, I filling
my lungs with deep draughts of the
delicious ~resinous odor, and some
body shifting with apparently al much
Epleasufe as myself.
We left the solemn mystery OF h
/ whispering trees to again follow the
red clay road for a short distance I'M
til we found a path. or rather a trail,
Leading over a hill which is always
fragrant and lovely from the abound
ance of the dainty pink and white ar
butus. But to my indignation a fire
Ihad recently been playing havoc
amidst the undergrowth. The lower
branches of the laurel were crisp and
brown, the symetric proportion oh
many young pines was completely
ruined by the flames, even the o
was SO burnt as to crumble into ashes
under my feet, and as for the arbutus
dear, faithful blossoms that come to
us with the first invitation of warm
sunshine, they were hfdeous1y charr-