Literary Pilgrimages of a NaturalistPackard, Winthrop
History
Literary Pilgrimages of a Naturalist
Packard, Winthrop
Natural history -- Outdoor books; New England -- Description and travel
All these are growths of the bottom lands, the hollows among the
sand dunes back of the town. Within some of these are little fresh
ponds in which grow waterlilies and the usual aquatic plants of
such places. Here amid the prevailing wildness are many little
beauty spots which, could the Pilgrims have come to them before the
winter frosts had wrecked the vegetation, might have tempted them
to stay. Passing on down the Cape you soon leave these behind and
get into the higher dunes on the narrowest part where vegetation
has little chance for its life. Here for a mile or two one might
well think himself in Sahara. The sands, blown hither and thither
and piled in fantastic shapes by the winds, are as clean as those
of the beaten sea beach, as free from all suspicion of humus.
Yet if you will cross Sahara in most any direction to the
camel’s-hump hills which are scattered over its border as if
a caravan had become petrified there, you will find the humps
sprouting vegetation, a vegetation that is sparse, perhaps, but to
your astonishment is glossy and luxuriant of leaf. More than one
of these mounds represents a drawn battle between whelming sands,
wind-driven, and a vigorous wild cherry tree. How such a tree finds
its start in these shifting, scouring sands is a puzzle. Yet once
started it is easy to follow with more or less accuracy the course
of the war which lasts years. The winds take the young shoot for
a nucleus and pile their sands all up about it, yet may not quite
cover the very tip, for there the varying draft whirls the topmost
sands away again. The sand really helps. It mulches the young plant
and protects it from the winter cold and the gales, from the summer
heat and the drought. Each year the thus protected plant grows
joyously more straight shoots, to be whelmed again almost to the
tips by the sand, and so the merry war goes on till finally we have
a dune twenty-five or thirty feet high, with the trunk and larger
branches of a wild cherry tree for a core, its smooth, hard-packed
surface wreathed with green leaves and often bearing rich, dark
fruit for the delectation of all who pass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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