Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

Page 32 text:

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

Page 34 text:

THE PLACE WALKED as swiftly as I possibly could through the path that turned farther and farther away from our cottage. I could barely see the newly-painted white cottage with its red roof and trimming, and at that moment I didnit particularly care. I was being a 'iprima donnaf, Thatis what my father calls me when I go off on a rampage. The only person I want to be with, then, is myself. It all started when Mom and Dad kept referring to me as their Hlittle adolescentfi I hate that word and they knew it. It seemed silly now, here in the place.', Trifles seem even more so in the face of some- thing simple yet important. The 'Kplacen was just that-something simple yet you had the feeling that it was very, very important. My conscience protested even more when I recalled how I had refused to let Mitzi follow me. Being a dog, she was the easiest object for me to prove my supremacy over, and I took advantage of her by locking her up. I wished that she were here now so that the Hplacen might be shared with her. She would have loved to poke her nose into every hole and corner, barking at every beetle and bug that came her way. The uplacei' was a special clearing in the woods which was invisible except for the now well-worn path. Its trees were a little smaller than all the rest, and they seemed to beckon to the sun which streamed through their green branches. There were many different kinds of woods, and the fragrance varied from that of a cedar chest to the fresh, tingling smell of the pine. The ground was covered with cones and leaves which crackled at every step. An old tree stump stood in the very center of the clearing, and all around it grew tiny little mushrooms. As I sat in the warmth of the sun, I could feel the heat penetrating through my body. The sun welcomed me into its rays, and I gladly accepted its welcome. I felt completely oblivious to everything but the 'Lplacef' I had no parents, no dog, nor a home in the city. I had never heard of the word adolescent. I had reached the 'Kplacef' and nothing could ever convince me to leave it. AUDRAE NORRIS Form V FROM MY WINDOW S I look out of the window from the upper bunk in the guest cabin at the lake, I can see the mist slowly rising from the crystal clear water. On the right, the island is Haming with the brilliant colors of Indian Summer. I know it is early because I can hear the deer rustling through the blanket of crimson leaves covering the ground. When I shift my gaze to the left, I can see the lazy curls of smoke slowly drifting skyward. The fire in the fireplace of the main cabin is burning away at a lusty rate. I now hear the patter of the chipmunk's tiny feet. As he leaves his perch in the oak tree outside my window, he lands on the roof and starts off in search of breakfast. In the distance I hear the mournful wails of the racoons as they too look for food. Now, as the mist clears, the sparkling water starts to ripple on its way. Visible through the branches of the somber pine trees is the sun slowly rising in the East. As it rises, it spreads its warm glow over the whole lake. Now a neighbor starts his motor boat and chugs down the lake to the sunfish hole. On the way past our cabin he scares a blue heron, who has been standing near the shore. Suddenly the heron rises and takes off and glides over the dazzling water for parts un- known. The lake and surrounding territory come to life all at once. I slowly get up and start for the main cabin, thinking of the good breakfast awaiting me. DOROTHY BEEK Form III 32 THE FLAME