BUSHPATHS

Evening Post, Volume CXXVI, Issue 50, 27 August 1938, Page 20

BUSHPATHS

Summer's 'whispering /through the, tree-tops, - - ■ And where little ferns unfurl; She is playing with the clematis, And kissing kowhai curls. It was early on a beautiful summer's morning as I entered the cool green bush of the North Island of New Zealand, where every corner and glade was eloquent with beauty. Above me on the topmost bough of a swaying tree a blackbird poured forth his ecstasy in mellow notes and through an occasional break in the thick foliage came a shaft df sunlight down from the blue dome of the sky. The flowers exhaled their sweetest perfume as they aroused from drowsy slumber and opened laughing eyes to me. A little streamlet flowed like a thread of silver ribbon through the virgin undergrowth sometimes appearing to view and sometimes submerging completely into the tangled vines and bushes. '- On and on I went to where arches of starry clematis- ■ ":gleamedi mistywhite against where the towering kauri trees rose up to form majestic cathedrals and sweet songsters, like the tui and bellbird poured forth golden harmony to the whispery wind. - -.-. ; I sat on the dewy grass in an enchanting little glade and I could almost hea^ the turf ring to the music of fairy footfalls, and I wondered what might be lurking in the gently swaying ferns which are one of the most lovely features of our southern isle, and to my mind came a littlesong I had heard and which seemed to fit delightfully into my surroundings: .;-. .. ■ i -.;. : : In Maoriland long years ago, ; The fairies held their sway,' ;' And in the moonlight's glow, : They danced and sang all day. But once some, task they left undone,: Their queen was very stern, She waved her wand . and changed each one, Into a silver fern..,. . At last I aroused from my dreamings and with one last wistful look I sauntered on. Gradually the trees thinned out a little and I gasped at the sheer beauty of the sight which presented itself to my eager eyes. An overspreading kowhai tree had flung; golden showers of blossom on the verdant grass and humming bees flew around it. Just above it on a little knoll was a flaming pohutakawa, or New Zealand Christmas Tree, bathedin a mantle of red and scarlet, and making a vivid foreground to the deep green of the bush,