In the Sierra 



up on the north rim of the valley, com- 

 manding views of the clouds in all their 

 red glory spreading their wonderful light 

 over all the basin, while the rocks and trees 

 and small Alpine plants at my feet seemed 

 hushed and thoughtful, as if they also were 

 conscious spectators of the glorious new 

 cloud-world. 



Here and there, as I plodded farther and 

 higher, I came to small garden-patches and 

 ferneries just where one would naturally de- 

 cide that no plant-creature could possibly 

 live. But, as in the region about the head 

 of Mono Pass and the top of Dana, it was 

 in the wildest, highest places that the most 

 beautiful and tender and enthusiastic plant- 

 people were found. Again and again, as I 

 lingered over these charming plants, I said, 

 How came you here ? How do you live 

 through the winter ? Our roots, they ex- 

 plained, reach far down the joints of the 

 summer-warmed rocks, and beneath our fine 

 snow mantle killing frosts cannot reach us, 



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