faith: the ancient pear trees are still in bearing, the wild mustard
yellows in the fields, its architecture still betrays the uncertain
hand of the savage; back in unsearchable recesses of the hills linger
still some Indians whose garbled greeting is a memory of the _Ama Dios_
which the padres taught them. Until a few years ago the prayer-post,
a rude slab with the triple-knotted cord of the Franciscans carved
around it, still stood on the hill at the end of the path their devout
feet made, resorting to it for courage and consolation. These mementos
fade, but year by year the impress of the great spirit of Serra grows
plainer, like one of those trodden paths of long ago which show not at
all if you seek them in the grass or near at hand, but from the vantage
of Palo Corona are traceable far across the landscape.
The modern Carmel is a place of resort for painter and poet folk.
Beauty is cheap there; it may be had in superlative quality for the
mere labour of looking out of the window. It is the absolute setting
for romance. No shipping ever puts in at the singing beaches. The
freighting teams from the Sur with their bells a-jangle, go by on the
country road, but great dreams have visited the inhabitants thereof.
Spring visits it also with yellow violets all up the wooded hills,
and great fountain sprays of sea-blue ceanothus. Summer reddens the
berries of the manzanita and mellows the poppy-blazoned slopes to tawny
saffron. Strong tides arrive unheralded from some far-off deep-sea
disturbance and shake the beaches. Suddenly, on the quietest days, some
flying squadron of the deep breaks high over Lobos and neighs in her
narrow caverns. Blown foam, whipped all across the Pacific, is cast
up like weed along the sand and skims the wave-marks with a winged
motion. Whole flocks of these foam-birds may be seen scudding toward
the rock-corners of Mission Point after the equinoctial winds. Other
tides the sea slips far out on new-made level reaches, and leaves the
wet sand shining after the sun goes down like the rosy inside pearl of
the abalone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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