Dusk on a Frosty Night

Southland Times, Issue 22074, 22 July 1933, Page 18

Dusk on a Frosty Night

—PrizeNow the flamboyant splendour of sunset has melted into the lesser hues of dusk. The air is cold and crystal clear, the grass is already stiff with whitebeaded edges. Now earth and sky are blurred into a harmonious sweep of cool grey. The birds have finished their songs, save one that gurgles throatily somewhere up the hill-side. The trees cluster together with their branches laced with black, transforming their sombre hues into an indistinct smudgy pattern. Down the frosty air sounds float clear and sharp. A dog’s bark cuts the stillness like a knife. It seems as though a filmy veil covers the sky and droops over the land. Through it shine a few bright globes, dew-drops that fell too late. . At last it seems that the cares of the world are over, there is a sacred hush. The world is poised on the threshold of night, hesitating before it plunges into the unknown. A flush of golden light tells that the early moon is rising and now the yellow rim sails up, higher and higher, until a cold clear stream of light silvers the country. The whitened grass is stiff and crisp. It crackles beneath my feet and gleams frostily. The shadows are black and clear-cut as ebony. The moon sails higher, then a clear owl-call cuts the crisp air. Night is come. 2/- and 4 marks to Cousin Chrissie Ross (14), Maia, Dunedin. —Prize— Dusk comes early in winter, and brief is the twilight, but oh, so lovely. One is perhaps rejoicing in the golden clarity of the afternoon, feeling a vague rapture in the pale sunlight, beautiful if scarcely warming; the day seems crystallized into unchangeable perfection. Then suddenly one is conscious of a chill, creeping, creeping into the air; like the promptings of an uneasy conscience it pulls at the heart, and one is all at once aware that day has fled. With the coming of the chill the world stiffens, on the alert; the grass begins to resist the trampling of the feet, the old, gaunt trees become almost spectral, in pure clean-cut silhouette. Some mysterious force seems to be sucking all light and life and humanity from the atmosphere, leaving it weakly greedy of the shadows that, only .too eager, swirl over all. The sky seems blanched, to an exceeding pallor, and yet every moment the light decreases. The shadows that some flocking seem merely dark veils over shining crystal. And the colour—how rich is this twilight hour in colour! The blurred redbrown of smoke from innumerable chimneys, curling up into the infinite sky, so bewitching in its turn, with its greenish-blue transparency, lit up by glorious gold, which becomes ever more intense, until deep down on the western horizon, behold there lie the glowing embers of the day. As the shadows deepen in the sky so does the west glow more intensely, with a passion magnified by the sting of the freezing air. The buildings, the trees, stand out sharply-brown against the fiery sunset It is all very beautiful. But all the time the light is fleeting; the greenish shadows intrude always more closely upon the gorgeous red; the moon has risen, and the first pale star is already gleaming in the east, which is now the uniform blue of transparent silk. Close to the earth the shadows are settled surely; the white rime gleanms on the grass. Street lamps go endlessly in their lines of unwavering light; the great monster forms of cars come rushing with their two great unblinking eyes through the gloom. Sound is intensified by the clearness of the frosty air, and comes to the ears from all sides in a fascinating blend of tone and undertone. In the light pouring from unguarded windows comes the promise of homely, warmth within, and good comfort for the night. For to all indoors it is already night; only that band of lovely, burning fire remains to show that day still lingers and soon it, too, will die. —2/- and 4 marks to Cousin Marion McLean (16), 86 Fox street, Invercargill. -PrizeDusk is the most bewitching time of the day. There is something ethereal and mysterious in that short time between daylight and night, but it has an added fascination on a frosty night. The setting sun tints marvellously the great banks of fleecy clouds; or long, feathery streamers, catch and transfuse the slanting rays across the whole sky into mauve, crimson and gold upon turquoise blue. The low of cattle as they settle down in their pastures, or the chirp of a belated bird as it swiftly wings its way homeward, falls melodiously on the still air. Silently the colours change to palest amber and gold, then to silver blue; a pale star flashes into view, then quickly recedes, as if afraid of being seen. A few more stars appear, twinkling and fading, as if playing hide and seek. The evening star, cold and bright, emerges from her sapphire bed and shines calmly and serenely on the world below. In an instant it seems the firmament is a mantle of purple velvet studded in glittering jewels, with the milky way stretching like a silver pathway across the sky. The Southern Cross stands out clear and distinct, like a sentry over our Southern world. The air suddenly strikes cold and sharp as Jack Frost and his attendant sprites commence their task of transforming a sleeping world. The moon rising slowly, burnishes the earth in a silvery sheen; an air of mystery and of the unknown lurks in the shadows of the trees and hills, where here and there stands out a solitary cabbage tree, grim looking and silent in the midst of silver moonlight. Little whispers of sound float on the still air. vague murmurs seem to crystallize, the murmuring of a stream becomes more audible, and as you move to go, the grass crunches stiff and hard under your feet. The trees have been clothed in silver confetti, and every blade of grass reflects back the silver of the moon in thousands of sparkling gems. Jack Frost’s work is finished, dusk is gone and I leave Night in her majesty of beauty and grandeur.

-2/- and 4 marks to Cousin Aileen Henderson (12), Waikana.

—Highly Commended.— The sun had just set after one of the most glorious days experienced in winter. The sky’s cloudless blue had changed to red, as is customary at sunset. No longer did happy birds sing their songs to occasional passers-by. They had gone to their nests and to sleep. Sheep and the other animals to be seen grazing on the green fields during day had selected sheltered spots in which to sleep. A change in the air is noted. Whereas there had been a certain warmth in the ail’ during day, now there was a sharp bite in the air characteristic of a frosty evening. No longer do people traverse the country lanes as they did during the day. An occasional rubicund rustic wends his weary way homewards, glad to have finished a day’s work. Stars appear and shine their twinkling light upon a beginning-to-sleep world. A very slight witness, crisp and crystalline, settles on the ground now losing the warmth afforded it by the rays of the sun.

The sky is cloudy, but still retains the vivid red colour which followed and accompanied the sunset Now from the clouds peep forth bright stars. The moon, a full, pale yellow moon, rocks like a ship upon an ocean bedecked with foam. To-morrow no doubt, will be fine and frosty. —2 marks to Cousin James Lynch, (14), Main street, Otautau.

A quiet, calm, peaceful scene meets our eyes if we take a walk outside on a frosty evening. A clear deep blue sky with twinkling stars and perhaps a pale moon. Against the sky tall, dark buildings are silhouetted while the faint call of an owl breaks the eerie stillness. Trees loom up like marble pillars in an old temple and the bright lights in towns seem to be coloured stars. In the country, the last birds fly home while the dewdrops fall, the dewdrops sparkle like diamonds as they fall on the tres, flowers and grass. They give the trees beauty and the air is full of perfumes. The air is chilly but fresh and sweet smelling. In town the people, especially the women, wear fur coats as they go in and out of the shops. The tramcars with their red, green, blue and white lights, make a fairyland of colours. The country with its bushland, is of marvellous beauty. It seems as though the trees have made themselves into weird, dark shapes which come out at dusk.

At the lakes, that had been blue during the day, were the clear reflections of people, land, houses and trees. The sky is also reflected. As people pass by on bikes or in cars, the lights on the vehicles are seen like fast-moving illuminated fish. —2 marks to Cousin Gray Anderson (9), 78 Don street, Invercargill.

Eventide is approaching. The labourer’s task is o’er and slowly he trudges home, heedless of the changing beauties around him. Over the green clad hills tlie fleecy clouds are tinted a glowing red which gradually darkens. A gentle breeze rustles in the trees where the feathered creatures shelter from the cold.

In the village, lights twinkle on and

the blinds are drawn, thus shutting out the wanderer, who waits to see God’s wonders. Suddenly all is still. Mother sky dons her nightly cloak which is draped with myriads of stars. Each sound is loudly echoed showing that Jack Frost is out riding in his frozen chariot. All living plants seem to stiffen as if turned to stone and the dew spangled grass is turned to glittering jewels. Out of the gloom are heard the faint tingles of the cow bells as the animals seek rest beneath the boughs of the stately trees. Smoke curls up out of the nearby chimneys telling that a happy group is gathered round each blazing tire. Away in the fields the sheep lazily gaze up at the blinking points of gold which peer down from their home above.

In the forest where the mystic shadows lurk among the trees, the timid deer come down to the stream for an eveing drink, while the great harts roar a challenge as the twilight meets the dark,

—2 marks to Cousin Doris Humphries (14), Chester street, Otautau.

After a day of brilliant sunshine, when one forgets that it is winter so warm are the sun’s rays, we are very quickly undeceived at dusk. The change comes very suddenly; one moment the sun is shining brightly, the next, even as it still shines there comes a perceptible chill. On the eastern horizon a crimson haze appears, tipped with a fringe of purple. It is still quite light, but the sun has gone behind the hilltops and from gold the sky turns to a steely grey. Just above the crimson and purple haze the evening star has appeared, a nip comes to the tip of one’s ears and one knows that Jack Frost has begun his work. In the east, the crimson has turned to deep purple, while the sky is now studded with stars, which appear, as if by magic, hundreds at a time. A deep silence broods over the world, for Jack Frost always demands silence. . Suddenly one is startled by a strange sight. At the bottom of that now purple haze, a great strip of something fiery appears, coming quickly up, just like a balloon being blown up. It assumes a circular shape and one realizes with a shock that it is the moon. Surely it has left its usual track and come some millions of miles nearer. It is more than twice its normal size and looks so weird, for its rays have not yet penetrated that mysterious haze. It seems to leap upward till soon it mounts above the veil into clear sky. It now resumes its usual appearance and size, and a bright silvery light is shed over the world. The smaller stars have faded now, paled by sight of the moon. The air is crisper and colder and one instinctively seeks the warmth of a cheery fire. Night has come, and for the next twelve hours Jack Frost will be transforming the earth into a picture of wonder. —2 marks to Cousin Connie Jellyman (14), Queen street, Otautau. Down from the heavens comes a film —a film which sends the world to sleep. In the woodlands, what a beautiful sight is to be seen. Every tree for

miles around, glistens with the tiny atoms of frost. Frost, what a pretty word. When we hear it, we tingle from head to toe with joy, and we think of millions and millions of tiny diamonds grouped in clusters round the boughs of the trees. The grass, too, is so beautifully decorated that we are almost afraid to walk on it. No carnet in an Indian palace could ever compare with the wonderful works of Nature. If only we could keep the frost throughout the daytime. Rabbits, those delightful furry creatures, made by Nature’s loving hands, are scurrying away into their cosy burrows.

Some people say that they are cold, others say that they are tired, but those of us who love Nature could tell them that it is because they, too, are afraid to walk on the rich carpet. Then comes the most beautiful part of all.

From behind a fleecy cloud, peeps the glory of all glories—the moon. Shedding his silvery beams over the frost-clad forest, he reigns supreme throughout the night. Dusk!

When we hear this beautiful word, how many of us really appreciate its beauty. And I think the prettiest place at dusk is the bush. The trees stand like sentinels against the sky, their beauty inviting many in to the depths of the bush. All the time the stars twinkle brilliantly, giving a serene air to the world. Even the blackest pieces of ths sky, shine gloriously in order to give a contrast with the frost-covered world beneath.

—2 marks to Cousin Molly Hynd (13), 169 Elies road.

On night, when I was coming home from school, the twilight seemed long, although it was not at all cold, it was freezing hard. On the drive into our house, are two pools, where the ice had been broken, but now was quite thick.

When the moon rose and began to shine, I said to myself this rhyme, “Slowly and silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon.”

—1 mark to Cousin Eva Moir (10), Eastern Bush, Blackmount, R.D.