26 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



of the Cascades fail altogether ere the foot of 

 the range is reached, stayed by drought as sud- 

 denly as on the west side they are stopped by 

 the sea; showing strikingly how dependent are 

 these forest giants on the generous rains and 

 fogs so often complained of in the coast climate. 

 The lower portions of the reserves are solemnly 

 soaked and poulticed in rain and fog during the 

 winter months, and there is a sad dearth of sun- 

 shine, but with a little knowledge of woodcraft 

 any one may enjoy an excursion into these woods 

 even in the rainy season. The big, gray days 

 are exhilarating, and the colors of leaf and branch 

 and mossy bole are then at their best. The 

 mighty trees getting their food are seen to be 

 wide-awake, every needle thrilling in the wel- 

 come nourishing storms, chanting and bowing 

 low in glorious harmony, while every raindrop 

 and snowflake is seen as a beneficent messenger 

 from the sky. The snow that falls on the lower 

 woods is mostly soft, coming through the trees 

 in downy tufts, loading their branches, and bend- 

 ing them down against the trunks until they 

 look like arrows, while a strange muffled silence 

 prevails, making everything impressively solemn. 

 But these lowland snowstorms and their effects 

 quickly vanish. The snow melts in a day or 

 two, sometimes in a few hours, the bent branches 

 spring up again, and all the forest work is left 

 to the fog and the rain. At the same time, dry 



