The coastland times., 1955-09-16
THE HIGHER
THE FEWER
There's Always Plenty of Room
At The Top
By
NANCY J. MIDGET
SCY J. MIDGET

III MANU- D. M1DOEl
"Come, little leaves said the wind
one day,
Come to the meadows with me and
play,
Put on your dresses of red and
gold
For summer has gone and the days
grow cold"
That, in case anyone is wonder
ing what is coming up next, is
verse of a song | learned when at
school, age about eight years, and
it came into my head as l was
walking to the office this morning
and watching the leaves stirring
in the cutters as an eddy of wind
caught them. l took a deep breath
of the cool air which / must ad-
nit suits my energy or lack of
same, more than the ninety de-
grees plus that we have had in the
past month or so; / had faint
stirring of a desire to skip as l did
at the age when the song was
learned but thought that if the
work at the office was to be done,
God willing, l had better not
tempt fate by shaking up the old
system that way.
| A. ,,e,,ol Eol has oonrht mn
mapping. Some of my extra fixing
jobs around the house not done;
the flower beds more properly
should be called hay fields and the
dresses and cotton blouses that
were to be made last summer are
still in state of bulk goods or
worse still, half worked on and
will now need much brow bending
and concentration to recall what
my idea was when l started out.
The only way see to get my jobs
done for sure is to rig up some
sort of conveyer belt system; push
a button and one job only pops in
to sight from some unseen depth
and sits there in front of me until l
do it; l feel that my brain would
become less panicked and the oft
times revolt of "Oh, what the
heck,-where's a book to read"
could be dealt with
Fall is a lovely time though.
Apart from the beauty of the turn
ing leaves which of course is more
apparent the further west one goes
towards the wooded hills and
mountain sides, there is the clearer
air filled with spicy odors of the
good earth, the way sound travels
So far and seems to echo, on and
on; the softer tones of light, and
much as l love to see and feel the
sunshine, believe me that those
with permanent poor sight, an in
clination towards headaches and to
squint in bright sunlight, give at
least a temporary sigh of relief
for the grey days and few
| clouds.
Having just this morning scrub
bed away with cloth and polish at
some more of the everlasting mil
dew, l can hear folks snort at the
grey days and as for the odors,
what about the overfiowing marsh
and Eye pooh" that followed it.
That wasn't plain fall though, that
was summer with summer heat,
plus an over-generosity of fluid,-
and from reports there is likely
to be more moisture for hurri-
cane H. is now making herself
felt. That's one thing about hurri-
canes,-when they get started
there is no stopping them for they
follow the workings of the laws
of nature and can't side-track like
US humans who have the power of
choice,-they can't just fold up
and read a book. / think these
lines come from Rabbi Ben Ezra,-
"Rather, l prize the doubt low
kinds exist without; finished and
finite clods untroubled by a spark.
l remember we had to write an
essay on the difference of principal
and view point of the two poems
from the Golden Treasury, Rabbi
Ben Ezra and the Rubiyat of Omar
Khayyam. It was part of our prep
aration of subjects to be covered
by the matriculation exams for us
l'about to leave school or go on to
college and though at sixteen l
suppose / understood the expound-
ing of the verse, l have discovered
that it takes living and touch
of middle age to even begin to un-
derstand the sentiments underlying
the words and to dare to judge on
which outlook on life is right or
wrong.
Now,-you see, I've got me back
to books again and there is stack
of work all round about, the iron
ing to finish and lots of knitting to
be done and some of it with a