University of Oregon monthly., May 01, 1908, Image 14

U niversity
of
17
O regon M onthly
Barefoot Days
: :
may be far from the land of our birth, but the same
sun and moon and stars rise and set. The d^ty breaks
with the same clouds and light, and closes with* thè same
glory in the evening sky. These, with the trees, and the grass and
the earth are the connecting links~to, the othèr country which we
can never visit,—childhood.
On any drowsy Summer afternoon when we loll half awake on
the green turf, smelling sofne familiar flower, or listening to the
lazy drone of bees7 as they search through the blossoms or sag
by .overhead, should soijae Wild, sweet-noted' song bird, close by,
break suddenly into" a familiar carol, we for the time forget our
place and being,—-forget the time elapsed since wé last heard the
song. Transported heart, mind and soul into the used-to^-be, we
live again thè incidents and pranks never once thought of since.
There was the dusty road with the little sand hill we climbed
just before coming to the bridge over the creek; and beyond, the
river arid the mill pond ; the dam and the rocks below ; and the
drooling elms and basswood where the king fisher made his point
of observation, or flew chattering to some snag further down the
stream. There, also, was the mill with its hum and grind, and
thè Cozy, queer looking house under the pines, where the miller
lived. -¿J* cannot leave out the flaxen-haired, blue-eyed daughter,
#ho, in that barefpot stage caused me a year of blissful misery..
She went away, and to this day I often wonder where she is, and
how she fares.
The green pastures below were covered with cowslips along
the stream, and higher up, with dandelions and trilliums, with oc­
casional clumps pf wild thorn apple and hazel bush, where the
chipmunks ran chirping in defiance'over the fallen logs. Then the
road led back along the stream and across it, and by a school house.
How often we grimy-fisted urchins had played truant there, and
been trounced and kept in several recesses at a Stretch. No trounc­
ing though could keep us from wading in the frog pounds or -chas­
ing squirrels and wood-chucks till »we forgot there was such a thing
as an end to the recess or noon hour.
J l/