The Coconino sun., 1921-09-30
Phoenix, Route 6, Sept 9, 1921. Grand Canyon Chapter No. 4,

Hrahu OanyOn \ihapter NO. 4,
 Order of the Eastern Star.
 Dear Members:
 On the mantle above my fireplace is the photo of the San Francisco Peaks, the dear gift you sent me. Mountains seem to have been built for the human race, as at once their schools and cathedrals; full of treas ures or illuminated manuscripts for the scholar, kindly in simple lessons for the worker, quiet in pale cloisters for the thinker, glorious in holiness for the worshiper. And of these great cathedrals of earth, with their gates of rock, pavements of cloud, choirs of stream and stone, altars of snow, and vaults of purple traversed by the con- tinual lights. And when we raise our eyes from earth, who has not some- times felt "the witchery of the soft blue sky" who has not watched a cloud floating upward as if on its way to heaven?
 Speak to the earth and it shall teach you"
 Since eighteen months old I have called the mountains home, and now that our winter home at Orangewood is near completion, we expect to spend a part of each year at our home on North Leroux, '..The Brides House" as our friends have christened it.
 l am glad l was privileged to live in Arizona during my childhood, for it was then learned to love nature, "and this our life (exempt from pub 1ta GrIC fnn ,n books in the running brooks, sermons in stone, and good in everything"
 There are, believe, experiences for which no description ever adequately prepares us, the first journey in the desert, we feel that the strange thing is pure nature, yet so extraordinary that we might be in another planet. The refreshing power of water from the canals upon the desert is scarcely greater than that which it exercises on the mind of man. Then too, the thunder storms come up. The wind mutters overhead, the rain patters on the leaves of the grape fruit, orange and lemon trees. To water again we owe the marvellous spectacle of the rainbow-"God's bow in the clouds" It is indeed truly heavenly messen- ger, and so unlike anything else that it scarcely seems to belong to this world.
 At Orangewood we have the glories of the rising and the setting of the sun.
 The richness of life is wonderful. Anyone who will sit quietly and watch a little will be indeed surprised at the number and variety of living beings, every one with a special history of its own, every one offering endless prob lems of great interest.
 For most of us February has spec ial charm. The air is full of scent, and sound, and songs of birds and the murmur of insects. It almost seems as if one could see the buds open. The bees hum for very joy, and the air is full of thousand scents, above all perhaps, that of the orange blossom.
 Flowers always seem to me at least, as if they were pining for the free dom of the woods and fields where they can live and grow as they please, and collect the kisses of the early morning. And yet lovely as flowers are, leaves add even more to the beauty of nature.
 Each season of the year has its own beauty. The mountain forest agitated by electric storm, or alive with the call of the birds; but the storm is soon over, the clouds break, the rain stops, the hills opposite come out again. The heavens change every moment and reflect their glory on the forest beneath. Every tree is indeed pict- ure in itself. The gnarled and rugged oak, the aspen with its leaves like fairies rustling and trembling with every breath of wind. The pines in such charming contrast with the gray ed green on the foliage by which it is shown off rather than hidden; and with the green spires of the firs-they keep the woods warm in winter. For every now and then hoar frost or snow settles on every branch and twig, lighting up the forest as if by en- chantment in preparation for some fairy festival. Here indeed, high up in the air, is the real life of the for est. Many savage nations worship trees, and I really think my first feel ing would be one of delight and inter- est rather than surprise, if some day when I am alone in forest one of the trees were to speak to me. With our forest, lakes seem to be naturally as- sociated, while overhead on soft sum- mer nights the stars seem leaning down to whisper in the ear of our souls.
 The "trails" of Arizona lead into much varied and beautiful scenery. The natural bridge, Montezuma's Well and the Painted Desert mapping itself out as it were with the broken frag- ments of the rainbow. Many things are colored, but the Painted Desert seems to be color itself. Petrified forest, rivers by right of being born, having carved their valleys with an unerring hand; but the rushing, gush- ing, foaming waters of maddened Colorado has cleft the earth and given us the Titan of Chasms" having first washed it's battlemented sides in the ravishing colors distilled from the des- ert sunsets of the ages past.
 Children are given the impression that the dominating parent and teach or know everythiup If on the con-