THE ROADS OF OUR LIVES 



233 



"The silver-weed with yel- 

 low flowers, 

 Half hidden by the leaf 



of gray, 

 Blooms on the banks of 

 that clear brook." 

 While far above, the ris- 

 ing sun tips with gold the 

 distorted branches of old 

 pines and spruces. Out of 

 one of these trees sails a 

 dark's crow sending forth 

 his racuous call re-echoing 

 across the canyon. This 

 bird launches forth as 

 though his was an individ- 

 ual responsibility to make 

 the scene more enchanting, 

 and rightly too, for all wild 

 life adds tenfold to the 

 wonders of the mountains. 

 Day is coming fast ; 

 breakfast is eaten; camp is 

 struck, and the horses pack- 

 ed for a start upon the 

 dream road of the day. The way leads up the can- 

 yon along the stream into an out-door world of life. 

 The abundant dew disappears from the tall stately 



-* ' 





i ; 



x 



A STORM IN THE DISTANCE 



Witnessed in safety from the far side of the lake, such storms add much 

 to the beauty and grandeur of the mountains. 



mertensia ; the shadows 

 steal away as the sun rises 

 higher. Suddenly there is 

 a scurry of hoofs and a 

 breaking of brush the 

 pack-horses start with fear 

 as five deer leap from the 

 willows to stand forth in 

 defiant curiosity for one 

 second before bounding 

 away up the steep slope. 



Soon the way leads out 

 upon a ridge where spruce 

 trees, whose crowns have 

 been whipped into peculiar 

 shapes by the winds,' lend 

 a distinct setting. Here 

 there is a snow bank near 

 whose edge small yellow 

 lilies are blooming. Be- 

 yond the snow, two pairs 

 of brown capped rosy finch 

 teed. These birds winter in 

 large flocks throughout the 

 southwest to come for sum- 

 mer and nesting above timber line near perpetual snow. 

 Ahead is an enchanting panorama of snow peaks and 

 canyon walls; the lower slopes are clothed with carpets 



.aR^-SSfr* 



PROOF POSITIVE THAT "DREAM ROADS" ARE MOST REAL 



As we follow the trail, this view of Mt. Hood, from a timbered park in the Oregon National Forest, proves beyond shadow of a doubt that 

 ureams come true and that we may fully realize our quest for beauty by following the trails to the wonder spots in our own National Forests. 



