The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1931-11-12

RI W frequent p tc h e S
Ia V of groves, still at
N W tired in all their
- sz::Ae Xxx greenery, to bring
We rode the length of Massachu-
sets Avenue and turned in the
heights of Georgetown into Wisconsin
back the touch of the primeval.
Country homes of Washington resi-
dents abound along the pike and have
fine sweeping lawns. Many yards
boast great Haunting Gamma beds with
liberal springlings of dahlias. And
there is the scarlet sage" 1 know
not that that is the name of the plant,
but that is one which is used here a
great deal.
While still the woods were verdant,
along the roadside l discovered my
old friend, the sumac, a riotouos fire
along the way. Here were fine farms
but still keeping them company were
a number of old log cabins, somewhat
restored, with modern additions, call
ing back to a past SO dim that it is
scarcely remembered. 1t is mixture
of the old and the new that confronts
one as he drinks . the glory of the
| landscape. We whisk by a battered
| remnant of what was once a farm
house and come upon "The Dixie Inn,"
place of modern refreshment offer
ings. At many buildings we see the
! old-fashioned outside chimneys and at
i one place | spied a cluster of little
cabins in the rear of great old
house, and l am confident that they
were the homes of slaves in times
when slavery was an accepted, and to
not few, an acceptable institution.
These cots, small as they were, also
had the outside chimneys, and l am
| exagerating but bit when l say
that the chimneys were greater than
the buildings to which they were at
| tached.
Quaintness and picturesqueness
abound and one grows to feel unre-
conciled to the presence of the mod
ern note in architecture which too
frequently intrudes. However, it is
in the ever recurring harmony of the
old that the theme song is to be
found and we catch ourselves again
humming, Maryland, My Maryland.
There flashed before me farmstead
of the long, long ago, with it's plenti-
full orchard hard by, and l unconsci-
ously went back to day long since
gone when popular melody was,
There's Girl in the Heart of Mary
land With Heart that Belongs to
Me-" It's words were in part, GAS l
told her of my love, the oriole above,
sang from the old apple tree; then
Maryland was fairyland," and so
| forth and son on in the same simple
pastoral way.
House, woods, cornfields, apple or
ehards, peach orchards, modern hous-
es, colonial relics, rusty plowed soil,
rolling panoramas,-Maryland! The
apple orchards were laden with the
fruit still clinging to the trees in
many places. l saw a walnut tree,
stripped of leaves but with the fruit
on the boughs.
Highway engineers seem to follow
the old roads with no thought Of TAX
ing out the kinks,-beautiful but
dangerous. Signs are at the sides of
the roads, as if in city, mo Park
ing"
We. reach high point on ridge
and we can look away into the far
distance where the landscape rolls
downward and downward. can fancy
a thousand peaceful valleys" hidden
away behind the trees and the ter
raced hills. Here should be quiet and
comfort and the joys of homelife at
their best with all thoughts of the
hurriedness of life flung aside. Here
should be peace, a peace ever undis-
turbed.
The hills are bathed in the sunlight
of Indian Summer. One would wish
to leave fast going motor car and
step into an ancient surrey and say
"glang" to some old Dobbin and to
/ view all this matchless canvas leisure
| ly and not be reminded Of the age of
speed, but one brought back to it by
the ever recurring sign, Tourists
Rooms" There are places to stop all
along the road "The Naples" the
windmill" "Uncle Toms Cabin"
Who cares for these? l want to cut
across that pasture and unpack
picnic dinner beneath lonely tree in
the center.
But if / entered the pasture / would
have to Chamber over an old worn"
fence. These, too, are relics of the
past. They are merely rough-hewn
rails supported by their own angles
Of meeting. That is to say, one sec
ton going northeasterly, rail set upon