Evening star., 1933-11-10
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

important part In the stupenduous
drama.
Thus. instead Of being irked the other
morning, when the snow squal hit the
suburbs, one was pleased that one for
tunately had been awake at the exact
minute to see and hear the phenomenon.
Out Of the northwest it rushed for
Just a few minutes, rafting hail against
window screens, slapping snow all over
garage roofs and the lawns, enough Of
1t to lie In place until well after day
light.
Later in the morning more sleepy per-
sons, having arrived In the downtown
sections, will swear that no snow fell,
but you will have the pleasure Of point
ing out a few remains Of 1t on the tops
OF passing automobiles.
n n II
Such pleasures are distinctly second
ary. The real Joy Of natural observa-
ton lies in the observing, In the COM
prehension at the time in the realiza-
ton that one understands-as the play
goes on.
Somehow it seems a great deal Of a
shame that so many worthy persons
must live and depart without once get
ting vision Of the immensity of all else
than themselves, of the vast and entirely
glorious universe, glorious even In the
phases we hate and despise
It Is shame that so many human
beings exist solely on personal plane,
without one thought, not only for the
good of others. but also for the great
existence outside Of them In all times
and places.
This lost thing Is not world vision,
but, better, natural vision It Is not
something big, something which would
necessarily fit into O. grand publicity
scheme, but it may as well be little and
despised and unknown. Still it remains
one Of the real joys Of existence to those
who know it.
From November to March, inclusive,
in this locality, almost anything may
happen in the weather line.
1t is not enough to accept these
changes as they come. One must ap-
preciate the subtle irnmensity of them,
because in all the natural changes, due
to the seasons, the great total changes
are achieved by minute differences day
by day. This Is what we mean by speak,
ing of the littleness Of the greatness, as
1t were.
1t Is precisely because the changes are
so small, day by day, that the Nature
lover is able to grasp something of the
1mmensity Of it all, something of the
vast scope Of system of universes piled
up in astronomical numbers.
The poet was right when he Said that
II he could tell the reader what flower
is he could tell him what the world Is,
and all beyond it. Science is more and
more proving his guess correct.
How beautiful on the lawns are the
barberry bushes, changing now into their
red hues, mingled with elusive browns
and greens!
To appreciate these, at this time, is to
be an artist, no matter how much of
piker some one else calls you, or how
crudely you might be able to transpose
these to canvas.
To understand, to appreciate-these
are the beginnings of art, and he who
has the beginnings, in his own system,
and because he wants to, is at heart an
artist, and perhaps as great as any.
So the world Is filed with these great
ones, strutting the streets unknown.
even to themselvesl But because they
do, in part, understand and know, they
constitute that best audience of everv
artistic expression. Their applause is
silent, but none the less felt. This very
man one jostles on the street, and
thinks clumsy, may be tripping over his
own feet in an effort to see the pale
moon in the late afternoon sky.