8 THE AUDUBON, BULL Eee 
Whitecrowns and Blue Lupine 
By Mrs. ARTHUR B. Copy 
A TWO HOUR TRIP by train took us just where we wished to be in the golden 
dunes, in blue lupine time. 
When in doubt, as we occasionally are—Madame Henriette and I—we 
go to the sand hills adventuring. But there is a certain time in May when 
we are never in that annoying mental condition. 
Slipping in a few belongings in a much traveled bag, well covered with 
fascinating reminders of rambles in England, France and Italy, we were 
off on our annual pilgrimage, leaving our loved and loving families to fend 
for themselves a few days—our necessities at this time being birds, brooks, 
blossoms, especially the blue lupine. 
Thoreau writes with perfect understanding and sympathy of this fiower, 
with delicate pealike blooms and pink buds, which “paints the whole hillside 
with its blue. Its leaf was made to be covered with dew drops. I am quite 
excited by the prospect of blue flowers in clumps, with narrow intervals. 
Such a profusion of the heavenly blue, the Elysian color. That is the value 
of lupine, the earth is blued with it.” 
And here it was, as we neared the sand hills, in clumps, with narrow 
intervals, the golden dunes blued with it. 
Our immediate destination was a small, clean farm house, — a five 
minute walk from the much-initialed shelter, dignified by the name of 
station. As usual it took us a full half hour; there were so many delights 
in the long deep ditches at the side of the country road, edged with bushes 
and filled with tangles of wild grape-vine, and clumps of snowy crinkle root. 
We were too late to attend the early service of matins, when every blade of 
grass was bedewed; that was for the morrow. 
It was the quiet hour for bird songs too, but we renewed acquaintance 
with many old friends who, we knew, would later have much to say to us 
at the vesper service we always attended. Catbirds were in and out of the 
low bushes, and we saw the glint of the Maryland yellow throat. Madame 
Henriette declared that a certain society had decreed the name of the latter 
be changed to northern yellow throat. So be it! It is just as saucy and 
fascinating under a new name, and as for Madame, she always has a certain 
number of technicalities to-arrange in her mental mosaic, then she is ready 
for the joy of it all, unhampered. 
A small bird with a white throat and line over eye, proclaimed the 
Carolina wren; there was a goodly number of song sparrows, thrashers, 
towhees, and an occasional wood thrush. 
Hearing the outdoor dinner bell (we were expected) for the noon meal, 
we hurried, and were soon enjoying a bountiful repast, in our usual solitude 
of two, for early in the season there are generally week-enders only. The 
windows gave on woods, meadow, and apple trees in blossom; chipping spar- 
rows everywhere unafraid, — the air blue with barn swallows, always to 
be found in the old barn. 
