Sarah Dix Hamlin School - Epilogue Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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mild hug hunting HREF. O'CLOCK SHARP, my step-father said as he sent me scurrying to bed, and put on two sweaters, young lady, so that I won't have to leave you at the camp. I rushed to my room and laid out my two big sweaters, my leather jacket, my boots, jeans, and chaps, in preparation for a wild hog hunting trip. I-Iog hunt- ing is a well known sport in our little valley, and it was quite an honor for me, a green rancherita, to accompany my step-father and his friends, who are known for their marksmanship, up into the wild mountains that are part of Rancho Alisal. I was so excited that I didn't sleep a wink but glanced at my little gold clock every few minutes. just as my mind began to wander, the alarm went off and I jumped out of bed to look through my chintz curtains at the still outdoors. The moon was still up, a silvery- gold crescent hanging in the sky. The sun would not be up for another three hours, and so the hogs would be feeding peacefully by the water hole. This would be truly a good hunt, as the moon was not too bright and the air not too cold. i I got dressed, and, after a hearty breakfast with the ranchers, went down to the stables. The world was clear yet mysterious. The sycamores looked like huge black giants silhouetted against the blue velvet of the sky. My horse was tied under the big white oak, and she quietly neighed as I approached her cautiously. She trembled slightly when I gently untied the rope which held her, as though she knew that she and I were going to share an exciting ride. The men started walking single file, with their horses, to the mounting block, and so I quickly followed. Old Adrulfo, our paisano CCalifornia Spaniardl, was humming Alla en el Rancho Grande, Alla donde vivia under his breath in time to the steady beat of the horses' hoofs. Angelo Camarjo, another old timer, took out his harmonica. There was no other sound, as horsemen rarely talk when riding. We went down a long avenue of sycamore trees that marks the entrance to the Alisal, crossed the creek, and rode out over the hills. We passed under lacy Spanish moss which hung, glistening, from the white oaks. The long grass through which we rode clung to our saddles and to our horses' bits. I leaned over and pulled a blade that was caught in the fluff of my horse's ear. Finally we passed through the last gate and galloped upward in the soft dirt. The floor of the woods which we en- tered was covered with maiden fern, poison oak, and morning glory

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Drzaming The silver-pale moon smiles Softly down through the lacy leaves Of our gray-green pepper tree. Each ray shimmers as, with clear, bell-like Tone, it falls on the creamy froth of blossoms. Their faint sweet fragrance mutes the moonbeams The young shoots of grass Are laden heavily with luminous dew. The freshness of the night air Coolly touches my cheek, as I sit dreaming. ANN MCILREE '4 5 CQarfSturm The dark, foreboding clouds roll slowly near, Depriving heaven of its brilliant light. The once-bright day becomes as black as night. A moment only - then the storm is here. The world is filled again with strife and fear. A flash of lightning makes the heavens bright, Then the lowering clouds prohibit sight. One wonders if the sky will ever clear . . . As sl-owly as it grew, the struggle dies. Its long awaited end is hailed by joyous cries All o'er the world. We are no longer blind But know His Will, and thus at last we find Uur peace - the rainbow with its pot of gold - As God now leads us back into His fold. CELESTE HIERS '4 5

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vines. Farther on we began the real ascent up the side of the mountain, passing occasional Spanish daggers that looked like white fingers pointing to heaven. I reached the summit before the others and gazed at the sea of green through which I had passed. Ahead of me, against the background of a higher mountain, was a water hole around which black objects could be seen moving cautiously. The movement of the waving grass indicated that the direction of the wind was toward us. Instantly all the men leaped off their horses and cocked their rifles. We left our horses, some hobbled, others grounded, and crept forward through the Lmderbrush. Their black backs stood out sharply against the sky. I scarcely breathed for fear one of the hogs would notice me and warn the others. The men stopped when they were about one hundred yards away and fell flat on their faces. just as I landed, there was a series of explosions and angry grunts and squeals as some of the hogs fell and others ran away. Those that were killed were tied and dragged. Then we mounted our horses again and rode over the crest of a hill, several miles away, where we came upon another water hole. This time I leapt off first and led the party through the underbrush, proud of my new-found knowledge. Again we stopped about a hundred yards away, and again there were sounds of shots and squeals. I remember only, for three more hours, a muddle of leaping, creeping, not breathing, sounds of shots and squeals, and then the sun at last climbed gloriously over the mountains. Later, at home, I kissed Mother and fell asleep before the open fire, lulled by the quiet talk of the men as they sipped their red wine and ate their hot enchiladas. ANNE MEEK '4 5 Sunrise The Sun rises, Transforming each drop of dew into a rainbowed pearl, And the sky flames into radiant beauty. A For the rising sun the birds begin their caroling, Bursting their tiny hearts in praise of this new day. Now Chanticleer crows his noisy welcome to the sun, Shattering the silence into blue bits like blades of fine, blue glass. A new day has begun. KAY LocKE ,47 '