San Ramon Valley High School - Kernel Yearbook (Danville, CA)

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SAN RAMON VALLEY Ten scouts had left their native east To explore a land to them unknowng Many hardships they had braved To seek for friends and kin, a heme. One by one they staked their homesites Here and there throughout the west Till one alone, with hopes unanswered, Still continued with his quest. Long months later, evening found himg On a hill, still sunlight shown. In the west a golden gateway In the east, a mountain lone. Travel worn was he and weary Lenging for the peace of night. His gaze lighted, interest quiekened, As fulfillment met his sight. Low hills rippling all about him Met a valley emerald set His patience was rewarded In God's own land his hopes were met. Prize Poem Willise Main

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2 began their message of death. Another moment and the sun arose to its full glory, the ravines of the mountain were stained with bloody light. The time had come! With cries of rage the painted horde swarm- ed over the valley. The horrible painted Nspiritu danced before them, arousing their lust for blood. Down, down they swept, through the fields of green grass, through the orchards to the vineyards. There they halted for a moment, impaired by the creeping vines but not for long. With renewed fury they came on. The corral gates crashed and the fences fell. Near- er they came--by leaps and bounds to the doom- ed watchers--I Thus Felita was not permitted to make her choice between a romantic elopement or a common- place, respectable marriage. She was not to be the heroine of another legend to add allure to the mad moments of a fiesta or to stir the sleep- ing thoughts of love in the wistful eyed Spanish maidens or to render more arduous the age old serenades strummed by dashing cavaliers to their lady loves, a tale that would bring memories to the gossiping old Peons that bask in the sun by the stable gates. I Nor was she to rule in the House of Moraga, growing old and corpulent, with grand-children following her footsteps about the garden, or listening wide-eyed as she directed her Indian workmen. For, by noon the haeienda of San Ramon had vanished. In its place was a heap of smouldering ruins. El Diablo had come. And gone! Jean Miller

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V i-up I xi Q ESSAY Once last summer, at the close of a scorching day, three friends and I saddled horses and set off across the parched valley for the shadowed hills beyond. Before us, the sky was aflame with sunsetgl the atmosphere was moved by a comforting breeze. I sensed a pleasant thrill as our horses pull- ed at their reins and lengthened into a fast run. After standing all day in the shade of the barn patiently switching flies, they were eager for exercise. It seemed as if we were racing to cap- ture some of that golden glory of the sunset be- fore it melted away. - By the time we started up the first incline of the ridge dusk had settled. The last beams of the sun had faded behind the hills, and the few puffs of clouds that hung in the sky were lined with silver. The ascent grew steeper and more difficult as we climbed. The trail twisted and turned among live-oaks, elms, and madrone treesg it struggled through grease-wood and wild blackberry under growths, and stumbled dizzily around rocky ledges. We were forced to keep constantly alert, with eyes to the front to dodge successfully the snarl of overhanging limbs, escape the grasp of clutching vines, and touch of poison oak. Occasionally we halted our horses in an open stretch of trail and surveyed the way over which we had come. The brush-fringed hills on the oppo- site side of the valley had released a huge lop- sided moon that slowly surnounted the heavensg Danville blinked tiny yellow eyes at us, and chains of lights were drawn swiftly along the thread-like highway. The surrounding trees cast grotesque shadows across the grassy the scurry of a woodrat in a clump of dry brush nearby, caused the horses to perk their ears.