Cloverdale Union High School - Spectator Yearbook (Cloverdale, CA)

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splurge away below us, on the plateau were some cows, and a chalet, with a man, some cheeses, and a smell in it. But talk about smells! Most Swiss villages can hold their own in that particular with any in the world. For in spring the dung and straw from the cow-houses is stacked up in various places along the streets. When it has got thro’ being soaked by the rains, it dries, and when hard is used for fuel. Were it not for the beautifully pure mountain air, it would be a source of unhelthiness. From the summit of 4 ' La Dent” we had a fine view of western Switzerland. All around us snowy peaks, and below forest covered slopes, mountain meadows, each with its toy dun-colored herd and tiny grey chalet, then, still lower, glimpses of villages with their red-roofed cottages, and dotted here and there with misty blue lakes. One evening, shortly after our trip up “La Dent” we experienced our first thunder storm. It swept up sudden and furious from the west, across and past us and on to the Alps, calm and clear in the east. We sat at the windows watching and listening to the bang and roll of the thunder like cannons echoing all over the heavens. The storm was a succession of gusts. When the lightning was bad the electric plant people shut off the cur¬ rent and in intervals of comparative calm they turned it on again. This made rather an amusing variety. Later we were to learn how frequent these mountain storms are. They suddenly spring to life in a clear sky and spread all over it in a few minutes. Everyone rushes for shelter, as open¬ ing-with rumblings of thunder, the storm bursts fortn in a perfect passion of fury which lasts from fifteen minutes to half an hour. Then all is serene again. A few clouds rest in the sky and the ground and everything is dripping wet, as out from houses and sheds come the village people to resume their ordinary occupations, so unceremoniously interrupted. Before the summer was past we had experienced many more of the surprises which this glorious land of Switzerland holds in store for nature lovers, and which have made her a Mecca for travelers from all parts of the globe. Katharine M. Douglas. 21

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gentle dun colored breed. During the summer, when the snows have melted, they are pastured with the goats high up on the mountains. At all hours of the day boys and men come long distances down the mountain paths carrying cans of milk on their backs. In the villages this milk is made into butter or cheese. Much of it is also used in the manufacture of milk- chocolate which has recently become one of the leading pro¬ ducts of the country. The first of August is the Fete Nationale of the Swiss. At eight in the evening bells are rung in all the villages. We were just finishing dinner that evening when they began to ring and we went out on our balcony to listen to them. They marked the opening of the celebration. A few mornings later we made the ascension of “La Dent de Vanlion,” one of the highest peaks in the Juras. It was a per¬ fect day, clear as a jewel. “La Bise, ,, the wind from the east always brought two or three days of perfect weather when the whole line of the Alps would shine out startingly clear and near at hand. The route up the mountain was marked by dabs of red paint on rocks and trees, just enough leaves had fallen on the paths to make them slippery. Half way up we came out on a tiny plateau, and sighted the “Lac de Joux,” a blue 20

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High School Prophecy I sat one day in silent thought Alone in a garden where poppies grew; My mind in the mist of the past was caught While I spent an hour with a chosen few. I pondered o ’er in this happy hour My days in the Cloverdale High, And my old school friends of years long past, ’Till in vision they came before my eyes:— In a mansion built of stone and cement With splendid arch and towering pillar, His mind upon his work intent, I recognized Professor Miller. Near by conversing in earnest tones, Reviewing it seemed in Latin, a course, Stood a tall thin man and a lady fair, She turned, and I saw Miss Ada Morse. A noise of laughter struck my ears— A jolly crowd, and issuing from it Sounds of voices, and kissing, and tears— Miss Douglas was back from a trip to the comet. I joined the others gathered ’round To hear her tell of her travels, And listening to her story I found A wonderful tale she unraveled. She told of the people she met on the way, And many were scholars of old, She had found them happy, bright, and gay And this is the tale that she told:— Once fatigued from travel she’d stopped to rest At a wayside inn of renown