

MARCH IN THE PINE 

 WOODS. 



T was my rare good for- 

 tune to spend an entire 

 winter among the pines of 

 Mendocino County; to see 

 the autumn with its glory of golden 

 oaks impalpably subside into the purple 

 hues of winter, with blustering storms 

 of rain and snow, and to see the gradual 

 emergence of spring — fresh, jubilant 

 and inspiring as in the eastern states. 

 February was an uncertain month, but 

 March was joyful with the glow of 

 renewed life. The open glades were 

 shimmering with the fresh, tender green 

 of the new grass. The brooks, swollen 

 with the winter rain and snow, were 

 lifting their joyous voices to the moun- 



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