Orangeville High School - Red and Blue Yearbook (Orangeville, Ontario Canada)

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On Seeing What ls Around Us V by Jean Cudney Xlll Once we walked down the valley, The Young blind boy and I. The wind was soft and spring -alike, And heavenly blue the sky. And he, for all his blindness, Saw things I dully missed, Heard subtle tones in bird song, Smelled wild flowers, sunlight kissed. Our world is one of splendour. The greatest joy can be derived from the ability to see this beauty and to apprehend it's pre- sence. Even a blind boy who cannot see the world with his eyes can feel the beauty in his heart. Think of the fair seasons., Nature does her utmost to make each one lovely. Winter has its white, untrodden snow, bringing us thoughts of roast chestnuts around an open blaze of warmth. Spring, with its pale green and silver haze, not only awakens the growth of nature, but make the old feel young at heart. With summer we think of fields of wheat waving in the wind and tall corn, row on row fore- telling a bountiful harve st. In autumn many leafy fires are ablaze and the fragrant scent of burning leaves enchant our nostrils, There is magic in the early morning when the great sun peeks above the horizon to arouse each and every living creature. We hear the crowing of the cock, the impatient call of the cattle, and the ceaseless chatter of our little winged friends. There is beauty in the night. Night, clad in a dark blue night-gown is th.e time associated with soft stirring of drowsy wings, blurred shadows or perhaps the continuous beat of waves on the shore. The scent of pine and the distant call of the whip:-poor:-will charm our senses. The lights from neighbouring homes twinkle as an answer to the twinkle of the stars. There is hushed movement until morning. In our great country are dauntless, snow-:capped mount- ains, velvety green valleys, wide rushing rivers and tiny, rippling streams. Timid, gentle deer bound over -fe'ff'Ces and glide away with perfect grace and ease. Perhaps they are hurrying to a tiny fawn just trying his wobbly legs for the fir st time. lf you don't believe in magic, go some-day to a sea of clover, through the waves of daisies, and lisa- ten. Soon you will hear the magic notes trilled from the very throat of the Bob-o-ling. Our flowers, the purple heather, and the soft

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The greatest mystery of the year was all that chemistry, Whenever that huge book appeared we quickly turned to flee. Wie had to do experiments and courage never lack, But when we mixed two compounds, fear made us stand back. J, up With our parties and our trips in fun we did not lack And when we think of times like that I'm sure welll wish welre back. But if ever we were back again, in Physics and the like, Ilm sure the teachers would rebel and quickly go on strike. H II ll In The Attic by Jean Cudney XIII Have you an attic in your house? Well, if you havenlt, I am convinced that you are missing one of the most interesting, amusing, and to a certain extent educational rooms that you could ever enter., The attic, to me when a child, was a forbidden realm of childhood dr-eams. Everything in the world that we could have wished for to play with was hidden there. There was furniture to furnish our imaginary castle, dignified pictures to adorn the walls, and, the grea- test pleasure of all, long dresses and high heeled shoes to dress the queen of the castle., It is always a source of amazement to me on looking back, how I eScaped severely spraining my ankle -ee or some such catastrophe -- while wearing those lofty creations at the same time impeded by the flowing skirts of my grandmotherls former Sunday be st. I would parade in front of the cracked old mirror, admiring the folds of material and displaying all the heavy, inexpensive jewellery with which I could possibly have decked my person.. There were clothes enough here for any occasion my busy imagination could conjure up. Weddings, QI liked to have then often because it was pleasant to be a bride so many different times, although I always did wish I had another brother to change off husbands occasionallyl balls, even funerals were attended in that one room, so steeped in memory now. Yes, of all the places of my childhood none holds more numerous or more pleasant memories than the attic. H il ll

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downy clouds which float like swans on the sea. All these make ours.. . world beautiful . There is the little grey, stone church on the corner where childhood Sundays were spent. The sun glistens from the steeple and the people sing sacred hymns. Behind the church is the country cem- etery. Here all folks, young or old, rich or poor, find peace to-gether. The country store, with shelves piled high with goods to provide the neighbouring housewives, and the school where you made the .friends who will be true the longest -3 thfese are places we see and love. Seeing what is around us is the most important stroke in the swim to happiness. One must also realize as our eyes feast on the bounties around us, what great Power gave them to us and with what effort some of them are attained. A table richly spread, the hospitality of our neighbours, and the love of our family are very dear to us. We see clean white sheets upon a well:-made bed, fresh baked bread, fresh clothes blown by Springls gay breeze on the line. What would life be without a warm friendly fire at the hearth to spread good cheer, or without those blissful April showers which bring pro:- fusions of daffodils out of their dark bed into the fresh, sweet air of Spring. We must see the little things which others do in order to promote friendship and happiness. A smile returned can be the main card in the train of events in some individualls day. It has the double effect of giving happiness to you and to him and therefore promoting it to the rest of the world about you. The things about us are so numerous and so exquisite that we marvel at them. lf we are conscious of these beauties, we cannot help but be happy in our daily life and burdens will soar from our souls as the eagle soars from a pine top. If I have faltered more or less In my great task of lmappinessg lf I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face, If beams from happy human eyes Have moved me not: if morning skies, Books, and my food, summer rain Knocked on my sullen heart in vain, Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take, And stab my spirit broad awake. R. L. S. il GU IV