Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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THE LAKE J The lake grows impatient -. v 1 , 7409? When strong winds blow J W' A And angrily, madly, pulls up A Seaweed, and tosses it about, ii Until, pulled by the white-topped waves, Q It tosses them onto the shore. ' The lake is quiet I J ' if . When no winds blow, . And stares up peacefully, quietly, ' A H' At the deep, velvety blue, serene sky. 4 fy Then silently, lazily, the seaweed drifts '91 Back, and the fishes sleep. :NVQ GERTRUDE PEET Form 1 OUR FAVORITE PLACE S MY horse plodded along the deserted road, I assured myself that there was nothing comparable to summer in New York State. We turned on to another country road, revealing a well kept little farmhouse shaded by maples and elms and sur- rounded by a sturdy, white-washed fence. On this special day my great-uncle's house was not our destination, so, waving to anyone who may have been watching, I went on down the winding path to the milk house. VVe stopped, and I led my horse to drink at the trough and rushed into the small milk house. The dipper as usual hung by the door, and I knelt on the damp cement floor to drink from the icy cold water. At length we continued our journey past the barn, empty now but for a mooing cow and her young calf. By the drone of the tractor in the distance, I could tell that the first cauliflower seeds of the season were being planted. The cows were at pasture, and I reminded myself of the fun there would be if I returned in time to help call them in. Leisurely we went on, leaving the buildings behind and coming to that part of the farm I remembered to be best of all, the low moving brook with its bridge that made strange noises when it was crossed. We stopped again. Nothing could hurry us today with a whole delicious afternoon ahead. I slid down the banks to the lively stream, remembering as I did so all the picnics we used to have in that very same spot. Laugh- ingly I recalled our attempts at swimming in the ankle-deep water with swim suits that made our parents smile. By now I had discarded my boots and was wiggling my toes about in the refreshing water, feeling happy as I had never felt before. A spritely sandpiper was Hitting from rock to pebble on the opposite edge of the brook. The watching of these daring hops kept my dosing horse awake. Again we started down the road. We jumped fence after fence and at length were ascending the hill. Soon I would catch my first glimpse of my father's favorite place. Yes, there it was, the enormous elm tree in front just as it had been described to me. I remembered the snapshot of my father as a little boy, sitting under that same tree sur- rounded by five or six romping puppies. From what I could see now of the friendly looking, solid old white colonial house, I could understand perfectly why my father had spent many of his younger days up at his grandfather's home. VVQ circled the empty house and found behind it another rail fence which led on up THE FLAME 29 Q. 1

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would come over to taunt Harvey while he worked, but mostly they didn't bother him much. Then at last it was time to begin the Hooding of the rink. This was a tedious job, but Harvey had more patience than most boys of his age. Every evening he would drag out a long hose and give the rink a coat of water, and then the next day when it was frozen, he would sprinkle it again. It was a job that required nearly a Week to Hnish, but Harvey kept at it diligently. And then one morning it was done! It had snowed daintily the night before. The trees had slipped their fingers into sparkling gloves of snow, and every house wore a white cap. Pulling my scarf up around my face, I galloped over to the vacant lot where Harvey was sitting with one arm around Paul. Hello Moll-eee,', he said, without looking at me. Hi! Gee, your rink is swell, Harveyli' Perhaps my friendliness was prompted by the fact that I liked to skate. Do you really think it's good?,' he whispered eagerly as he buckled one of his large overshoes. Yeah, It was a nice rink. Harvey had swept it clean and piled the snow neatly around the edge. It was as smooth as glass, and you could see a vague reflection of the chimney tops with wisps of lazy smoke curling skyward over the white landscape. lt's neatf' I aliirmed. Harvey sighed happily and smiled at his mother in the window. as as as as as A moment ago we had been alone in the lot, but now there was a troop of noisy boys mussing up the clean snow. That's a nice skating rink you've got there,', taunted Rex Markham. Rex was the ringleader of this little group, and although he was somewhat younger than Harvey, he spoke as one who deemed himself superior. Harvey only blinked stupidly without replying, so I volunteered hopefully, Harvey says we can all skate on it! That's nice! snapped Rex, still staring scornfully at Harvey. Then I noticed that all the boys were armed with shovels and pickaxes. Suddenly Harvey was brushed impatiently aside, and the boys swarmed upon the rink. It was horrible to see. Screaming derisively at their victim, they chopped the ice Hercely, utterly ruining all that Harvey had worked so hard to make. Harvey did not say a word, he just stood and watched them, staring blankly. The ice crunched and cracked, and the boys yelled shrilly with vicious delight. Once Paul made an effort to stop the destruction, but Rex kicked him hard and the poor dog limped away with his tail between his legs. I sobbed loudly and then turned and Hed home. The snow came silently and heavily that night, and by morning a soft white blanket covered completely all that remained of Harveyis skating rink. It was just as well. MOLLY SIMPSON Form VI THE FIRE The Hreis fingers reach up and greedily grab. They clutch and grasp at nothing. You feed it, and it becomes more hungry. It sizzles and crackles like some fierce demon. Lights of all colors dance up and down. Then slowly it Withers and dies away to red-hot embers And fades into lifeless ashes. IUDY BLAKE Form I 28 THE FLAME K 0

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into the higher fields and pastures. I had soon opened the gate, and we cantered through, eager to reach the highest point. Next there was an orchard, and as I was stuffing my jacket pockets with apples, I turned around intending to look back over the valley at the sights which I had been told about time and time again. I stopped myself quickly. Not until we had climbed to the very top, must I look at the beautiful scene. Finally we were jumping the last fence. Rail fences by this time were far behind, and stone ones, tumbling in their age but adding to the rusticness of the land, were to be found everywhere. After galloping ,round and 'round the last field, we stopped in a far corner to rest. I looked down toward the valley and caught my breath at the sight. The little village was so completely covered with trees that the tall white Steeple of the church alone rose through acres of Huffy tree tops. The sun's reflection on the surrounding hilltops and farmhouses made everything bright and cheerful. The only sounds were those indis- cernible ones of a late summer afternoon in the country. Bees were humming, and an occasional car motor could be heard in the distance. My father had been right when he had suggested this trip up to the old farm alone. It had quickly become my favorite place, too. I arose, rolled my overalls to my knees and walked about. For a long time I must have stayed and rested there. I noticed that the golden windows had faded, and I heard the church bell call the villagers to evening services. I watched the golden hills and farms slowly become rosy, as dusk fell over the loveliest place in my world. PHYLLIS LAIDLAW Form V AFTER THOUGHTS HE day was starting, a typical early summer day in Virginia. The sky was as blue as the back of the bluebird which perched on the Mountain Laurel bush outside my bed- room window. The air was heavy with the scent of magnolia, and a hint of night bloom- ing jasmine could be detected. Far down the street I heard the chant of the Negro fruit seller, I got oranges, fresh sweet orangesln In our front yard a hawker had stopped to strip the wrapping of wet plantain leaves from his large watermelons. He picked up a long knife and slit one of the plump green melons in half. He held the dripping slice of shocking pink high in the air for all the wide-eyed children to see, and then, with deft slash of the knife, portioned it out to the wistful spectators. I ran out of the house and across the lawn, the dew-kissed blades of grass tickling my bare feet as I ran. I climbed the hill which rose behind our house and there I sat to Watch the day go on. Far down the hill on the other side lay a field of rich purple clover and beyond that a green forest. It was just a small clump of trees with a stream running through it, but I loved it. Beyond that, I knew, was a white highway and a bridge stretching over the Potomac River leading into Washington, D. C. But I didn't want to think of that, not today. I got up and went into the house, slowly up the stairs into my room. I closed the doors and the windows trying to shut out the smell of magnolia and the cries of the children. I had to pack. We were leaving Virginia that afternoon. JENNIFER STATS Form Ill 30 THE FLAME