THE UPLANDS IN WINTER 121 



away. Blown along by a cold northwest wind 

 filled with icy particles I made rapid progress on 

 snowshoes over the hard crust. As I reached the 

 foot of Sagamore Pond, the sun burst from the 

 dark clouds just before setting and illumined all 

 the icy trees with a flame-colored glow, which 

 made everything glisten and sparkle like a scene 

 in fairy land. The drifts on Sagamore Hill were 

 brilliantly prominent, each snow-wave burning in 

 old gold, shading off to a salmon hue, while the 

 sky above was rippled over with marvelous pink 

 and golden bars. 



From my bed that night I could look over the 

 white marshes, dimly lighted by the stars, to the 

 ghostly waves of the sand dunes, the dark sea 

 beyond and Cape Ann with its twinkling lights 

 dominated by the steady red gleam from the 

 lighthouse at Annisquam. 



The next morning I awoke at dawn. All the 

 landscape was in shadow, all was as blue as the 

 blue coverlid on my bed. I compared them care- 

 fully — the hue of the snow and the coverlid 

 exactly matched. Hog Island loomed up a 

 round dark blue drumlin and the level marsh, all 



