152 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



March, 1920 



A CROSS COUNTRY FLIGHT 



Stancy Puerden 



THIS flight 

 was not by 

 airplane, al- 

 tho a friend in 

 San Antonio pro- 

 fessed to be sur- 

 prised to see me 

 step off a pro- 

 saic Pullman. 

 Maybe I shall 



live long enough to be able to cross the 

 continent by the aerial route, but so long as 

 the rate continues to be a dollar a minute 

 I shall be thankful that the Puerden family 

 purse permits me an occasional railway jour- 

 ney. 



California and Heaven have been almost 

 synonymous terms to me for years, but with 

 this difference — I am in no haste to go to 

 the latter place. So, when the head of the 

 house announced his intention of making a 

 business trip to California in January and 

 invited me to go with him, there was re- 

 joicing. And when he decided there was no 

 reason why our sixteen-year-old son, who is 

 completing his High School course in mid- 

 winter, should not accompany us, there was 

 yet greater rejoicing. 



When we left Ohio snow was a foot deep 

 on the level, it was stormy, and the air had 

 that damp, penetrating coldness which is 

 the most unpleasant feature of our winters. 

 Two mornings later we awakened to the 

 warmth, cloudless skies, and brilliantly clear 

 air of Texas. All day long we rushed across 

 that vast State, and the amazing thing 

 about it to me is that we were never out 

 of sight of one or more ranch dwellings. 

 Indeed, from the car windows, one would 

 believe Texas to be more thickly populated 

 than Ohio; for, owing to the wonderfully 

 clear air, the absence of forests, and the 

 generally level character of the country, 

 houses and towns were visible for miles and 

 miles in every direction. 



I imagine that Texas is beautiful when 

 spring starts the growth, and it was not 

 unattractive in January; for quantities of 

 mistletoe clung to the barren branches of 

 trees, and there were bushes covered with 

 brilliant red berries, giving the landscape 

 the effect of still bearing its Christmas 

 decorations. I believe we passed enough 

 mistletoe that day to furnish every girl in 

 Christendom a stolen kiss on Christmas, and 

 it was growing in such luxuriant clusters, 

 too. 



WE broke the long railroad journey by 

 spending the night and half the next 

 day in San Antonio, a beautiful city, 

 both for its historic buildings of the time of 

 the Spanish occupation and for its fine 

 modern homes and business structures. It 

 is impertinent for a tourist to attempt to 

 express her opinion about a city after such 

 a brief stay, but stored in my memory is a 

 delightful impression of San Antonio, west- 

 ern in its progressiveness and enthusiasm, 

 southern as to courtesy, interesting because 



r=^^^^^3=^ 



J 



of the old Span- 

 ish influence, 

 warmed and en- 

 riched by that 

 wonderful sun- 

 shine and clear 

 atmosphere. I 

 was told it is a 

 fine locality for 

 beekeepers. 

 Yes, I know Texas suffered some very bad 

 weather just before we were there; but I 

 have noticed fine climates are quite human 

 in that they all have times when they be- 

 have abominably. Nothing mortifies a 

 Southerner or Westerner more than to have 

 to apologize for his climate, which is mis- 

 behaving temporarily. 



AFTER riding all the afternoon and night, 

 /"^ still in Texas, we reached El Paso early 

 in the morning. Here we could not 

 only look into two great States but over the 

 Rio Grande into Mexico. We failed to see 

 the bridge from the car windows, but I am 

 quite sure at one point I could have waded 

 across the Rio Grande. It is a most insig- 

 nificant-looking stream and is distinctly dis- 

 appointing to be the boundary between two 

 great nations. Probably Uncle Sam under- 

 stands his business, but if I lived near the 

 frontier now I should want army posts pret- 

 ty numerous and strong to give me any feel- 

 ing of security from outlaws. 



Before we left home I was told that our 

 route over the Southern Pacific on the ' ' Sun- 

 set Limited" was not particularly beauti- 

 ful or interesting. I only wish all reality 

 could exceed anticipation as it did that day. 

 I have seen many places famous for their 

 scenic interest and beauty, from the At- 

 lantic to the Pacific, from Canada to Cuba 

 in the blue Carribean, but never in all my 

 life have I seen more beauty in a day than 

 in riding thru New Mexico and Arizona, 

 thru so-called desert country. 



All day long, on the horizon were tumbled 

 mountain ranges, sometimes so distant as to 

 seem unreal, their peaks in varying pastel 

 tints floating above a low blue haze on the 

 horizon. Sometimes the great hills drew 

 closer so we could see their seamed, bar- 

 ren, and rugged outlines. But in the 

 enchantment of that clear air, bathed in the 

 dazzling sunshine, those harsh and rugged 

 mountains took on the soft colorings of all 

 the beautiful sunsets you ever saw. As the 

 train slightly changed its direction from time 

 to time, the colors varied until there was a 

 shifting panorama of terra cotta, copper, 

 rose, wine, amethyst, violet, blues ranging 

 from turquois and sky blue to the deepest 

 ultramarine and navy, all blended or con- 

 trasted as no human artist could do. Cloud 

 shadows deepened peaks to violet in sharp 

 contrast to adjoining peaks, which were 

 a shimmering rose in the sunshine. And in 

 the foreground was the plain, dotted with 

 sagebrush, enlivened by the rich green of 

 the yucca or Spanish bayonet, by various 



