Some Summer Days in Iowa

Summer Days in Iowa, by
Frederick John Lazell

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Title: Some Summer Days in Iowa
Author: Frederick John Lazell
Release Date: April 24, 2006 [EBook #18249]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Some Summer Days in Iowa
BY

Frederick John Lazell
A book of the seasons, each page of which should be written in its own
season and out of doors, or in its own locality, wherever it may
be.--THOREAU

CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA THE TORCH PRESS NINETEEN
HUNDRED NINE

COPYRIGHT 1909 BY FRED J. LAZELL
[Illustration: "HAS CUT ITS WAY STRAIGHT DOWN THE FACE
OF A CLIFF" (p. 111)]

PREFACE
Like the two preceding little volumes of this series, this book seeks to
show something of what Iowa has to offer to the man who loves the
out-of-doors. There is nothing very unusual in it. The trees and the
flowers, the birds and the small wild animals which it mentions and
describes are such as may be seen in the Iowa fields and woods by
anyone who cares enough about them to walk amid their haunts. The
illustrations are such as the ordinary nature lover may "take" for
himself with his pocket kodak. The woodthrush built in a thicket by the
bungalow and borrowed a paper napkin for her nest. The chipmunk
came every morning for his slice of bread. And then the woodchuck
learned to be unafraid.
It has long been the author's belief that Iowa has just as much to offer
the nature lover as any other part of the world--that she has indeed a
richer flora than many states--and that every true Iowan ought to know
something of her trees and shrubs and herbs, her birds and animals, and
to feel something of the beauty of her skies and her landscapes. There
is so much beauty all around us, every day of the year, shall we not

sometimes lift our eyes to behold it?
The majority of Iowa people still find pleasure in the simple life, still
have the love for that which Nature so freely bestows. They find time
to look upon the beauty of the world. Many a busy man finds his best
recreation in the woods and fields. It may be only a few hours each
week, but it is enough to keep the music of the flowing waters ever in
his ears and the light of the sunshine in his eyes. It is enough to give the
men and the women of the state wholesome views of life, happy hearts
and broad sympathies. Some few find in the woods and fields thoughts
and feelings which are, to them, almost akin to religion. If this little
book helps such lovers of the out-of-doors ever so little; if it shall help
others to see for themselves the beauty and the joy and the goodness of
this world in which we live, the author will feel that it has been worth
while.

VII.--AN OLD ROAD IN JULY
In the old woods road a soft haze hung, too subtle to see save where its
delicate colorings were contrasted against the dark green leaves of the
oaks beyond the fence. Not the tangible, vapory haze of early morning,
but a tinted, ethereal haze, the visible effluence of the summer, the
nimbus of its power and glory. From tall cord grasses arching over the
side of the road, drawing water from the ditch in which their feet were
bathed and breathing it into the air with the scent of their own
greenness; from the transpiration of the trees, shrubs and vines, flowers
and mosses and ferns, from billions of pores in acres of leaves it came
streaming into the sunlight, vanishing quickly, yet ever renewed, as
surely as the little brook where the grasses drank and the grackles
fished for tadpoles and young frogs, was replenished by the hidden
spring. Mingled with it and floating in it was another stream of life, the
innumerable living organisms that make up the dust of the sunshine.
Pink and white, black and yellow spores from the mushrooms over the
fence in the pasture; pollen pushed from the glumes of the red top
grasses and the lilac spires of the hedge nettle and germander by the
roadside; shoals of spores from the mosses and ferns by