From the Hub

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 7191, 24 June 1933, Page 11

From the Hub

DEAR COGS—- . In spite .of tho entrancing pictures painted by Rebecca Anil, Mavis, Uncle Horaco and other enthusiasts when wintor comes to our Page, I cannot was eloquent about it. Indeed, I am going to suggest, that we have our Winter Pago in tho middle of summer. With the temperature' far below zero, and everyone round me trying to hide the fact that their noses are unbecomingly blue or red, fingers all swollen with chilblains, boys and girls hobbling with hurty boots—how can one enthuse?

I read somewhere lately that “it is one of the provoking but- interesting things about life that it will nover stop a moment for admiration. No sooner do wo pauso to enjoy it, or philosophise over it, or poetise about it, than it is up and away, and tho next time you glance around it is vanishing over the hill with the wind in its garments and the sun in its hair. If you do not go on with life it will go on without you.’ * In winter-time that it comforting because I like to think of the nasty troubles of winter “vanishing ever the hill.”

We have a typical winter scene for our Page, and J. would hn.v.c liked to include some wonderful snow, pictures sent in by' Mountain Maid, but Mi Printerman was afraid they would not reproduce well enough. I hope tne Page won't make you all shiver. Love from Your friend THE HUB Palmerston North Dear Hub—“ Winter” of what docs it make me think? Swift morning ridos to school with tho breathless cold rushing in my face—glorious rushing games of basketball —calm days with a cold, blue sky drifted with, clouds —grey, damp days with a little wind sobbingdreaming hills of purple and blue with the soft snow shining on their tops—(the beauty of a bare tree shining silver and grey—and oh, such lots of things! The beauty of winter, unlike the musical and lovely charm of spring, is stern and. cold and clear.

Winter, I think, is the fullest season of the year. When I say “fullest,” I mean it is crowded with activities that other seasons do not supply. There are the long evenings for study, and writing, and reading. What is, move pleasant than an armchair pulled up by a cosy lire, and a good book? .And to think that hundreds of knitting needles are clicking, busily every evening, making peggy squares, jumpers, slippers, scarves, which gayly flaunt their colours at winter’s cold. Then there are the outdoor sports, hockey and basketball. It is glorious to play in a hardeven game. I always think of the person, Winter, as an old man with a flowing white beard and hair, and twinkley blue eyes. His wife, the Snow Queen, is tall and lovely and always dresses in white flowing gowns. Then there are the snowflake fairies, end the little girl who , scatters snowdrops, she is neat and dainty, and Jack Frost, I really don’t know what he looks like. We are having a concert at the end of the term, and as I now have practices three nights a week 1 have not found time to visit you, but I will try to do so soon. Well, as I don’t want to take too much room when we are having a special Page, I shall close. Shivers of love to you and all Cogs from Rebecca 'Ann You paint a most attractive picture of Winter, my dear, in fact you almost persuade me that it is the best time of the year,- but I think I shall remain faithful to Summer.