234 
THE BEACH IN WINTER 
where rough fragments churn and grind in the 
yielding sand* Though the spontaneous voice of the 
breaking waves is hushed under the load of broken 
ice , the loud tones of the wind are all the more 
insistent and penetrating as they vary through the 
Willows and Poplars or angrily resent the artificial 
obstructions that men have presumed to erect* The 
sand is mingled with the sharp needles of snow that 
load the flying air, and it whisks across toward the 
protected water in sudden clouds or piles up solidly 
in long, irregular ridges* 
There are many beautiful accidents in the patterns 
traced by the wind in the sand, and the figures seem 
strangely complacent in the bewildering hurry of 
wind, waves, and cutting sleet* Some of the Scrub 
Willows are almost buried under the drifts, and others 
are so robbed of their supporting banks that bunched 
roots are hanging from them like unhealthy or 
parasitic growths* But the Willow is an accommodat- 
ing tree or shrub, and any part buried will send roots 
into the earth, while any part exposed will spread 
leaves to the sun* Even if inverted it will accept the 
situation* Out on the lighthouse piers, where there 
is no protecting floats of ice, the waves break in 
unabated fury, festooning the life-line and all the 
framework with icicles, and surging over the cribwork 
from the confining reach of the gap. After two or 
three vain attempts a determined wave rises higher 
