THE MESA TRAIL 



and all the air is heavy and musky sweet 

 because of them. 



Farther south on the trail there will be 

 poppies meeting ankle deep, and singly, 

 peacock-painted bubbles of calochortus 

 blown out at the tops of tall stems. But 

 before the season is in tune for the gayer 

 blossoms the best display of color is in the 

 lupin wash. There is always a lupin wash 

 somewhere on a mesa trail, — a broad, shal- 

 low, cobble-paved sink of vanished waters, 

 where the hummocks of Lupimcs ornatus 

 run a delicate gamut from silvery green of 

 spring to silvery white of winter foliage. 

 They look in fullest leaf, except for color, 

 most like the huddled huts of the cam- 

 poodie, and the largest of them might be a 

 man's length in diameter. In their season, 

 which is after the gilias are at their best, 

 and before the larkspurs are ripe for pollen 

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