Meadow and Mountain 



birds. To be sure this roof that I am writing about was not 

 Queen Anne style, nor Elizabethan, nor Grecian, nor Roman- 

 esque; but it had a style a style of its own which was a 

 singularly beautiful blending of curves and spirals. There 

 was the most artistic architecture there. It was wind- work of 

 marvelous masonry. The wind is sculptor that is what I 

 was saying. 



Then, again, the wind has so much to do with lights 

 and shadows, with leaves and blossoms. And do not lights 

 and shadows have everything to do with the creation of 

 beauty? The invisible brush of the wind sweeps a cloud 

 across the sun and the shadows fall. Did you ever watch 

 the cloud-shadow creep across a bluegrass meadow? That 

 was the workmanship of the wind! The wind wafted the 

 cloud across the sun. That same wind blew the cloud from 

 the face of the sun. Then came light. Light and shadow, 

 shadow and light much of that in nature is the work of the 

 wind. And surely you have watched the bending wheat when 

 the wind walked over it. Anything beautiful there? That 

 is sight enough to enrapture all the Ruskins of the world. 

 The walking of the wind over the wheat on my father's 

 farm awakened delights and dreams from whose charms I 

 have not yet escaped. And who would wish to escape the 

 charm of the wind walking on the wheat? I have seen the 

 big black shadow-ball go softly rolling over the wheat-field. 

 Then I knew the winds were out that day playing football 

 with cloud-shadows in the wheat-field. The sun and the 

 wind and the clouds and the green wheat were out playing 

 that day, and God was the great, glad umpire of the game. 

 Friend of mine, sick and tired of the city's fuss, go out awhile 

 and watch that game. But I was talking about the wind! 



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