xt7jh98zct60_11 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/mets.xml https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086.dao.xml Bevins, Martha 0.05 Cubic Feet 55 items archival material 2015ms086 English University of Kentucky The physical rights to the materials in this collection are held by the University of Kentucky Special Collections Research Center.  Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Martha Bevins letters to Tom McCarthy Radio broadcasting. Agriculture -- Kentucky. Birds Women air pilots. 1956 October 27 text 1956 October 27 2016 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086/Box_ms_42/Folder_1/Item_11/1956_10_27_Bevins_Townie_Visitor_p1.pdf 1956 October 27 1956 1956 October 27 section false xt7jh98zct60_11 xt7jh98zct60 —
Morning View Km tucky
27 October 1956
Hello Mr McCarthy,
I have heard scientists maintain that things do not taste alike
to different people, and that this is also true of the sense of
smell. I have Just discovered, most personally, that the same object
appears strikingly different to assorted viewers.
On perhaps the most beautiful of all the beautiful days which have
smiled through this October, a new adjective was bestowed upon
the tree Patch -- one that Was a complete surprise. I had been
showing off the big trees to town visitors, when one woman expressed
the opinion that so amaZed me. "I suppose you could get used to
it,"she began doubtfully. I had expected that, knowing she grew
up and still lived in a town area where street cars once passed
near by, and a drugstore is a mass of neon lights on the corner.
Then she went on -— ”But it is so gloomy.” Gloomy -- not quiet, or
lonely, or isolated, or pretty, or lovely - its gloomy.
After a blank moment, I gathered my face together and put it back
into its amiable-hostess-expression, then looked searchingly at the
. tree patch.
From a cloudless sky, the bright sun filtered down through tinted
trees. Only the very slightest breeze stirred the warm air. Pale
yellow ash leaves fell as straight to earth as a leaf can fall,
passing in their descent the branches of a black oak whose glossy
leaves were still dark green. Over our heads billowed the golden
crowns of great shagbark hickories, glowing with a luminosity all
their own as they pressed close to their neighboring white oaks,
which had taken upon themselves the hues of a ripe Tokay grape.
Among the oaks, young maples were flashing pyramids, the pure gold
of the lOWer branches shading to blazing red at the topmost twigs.
My unknown hickories wore a deep rich pumpkin orange; and even
the lowly pig nuts, whose fruit is scorned by all but meadow mice,
stood forth in golden gleamings only slightly darker than the
shagbarks themselves. The beech trees bulked dark and stiff in their
own particular coppery autumn colors. Sufficient~maple leaves had
already fallen to floor the tree patch with brightness.
Across the pond—field, the old sassafras in the hedgerow were a
wall of flame, spilling in long fingers down into the field itsedf
where younger trees have sprung up. Redbud, with big, light leaves,
stood pallid among them, and spots of darker, stronger coloring
were the youngs* persimmon trees. Beyond the hedgerow, pudgy corn
shocks marched ingmMIxxxx in geometric precision across the rounded
shoulder of the hill.

 F"""""""""""""""" . ‘

Behind the tree patch, the ground falls steeply away in pastureland
to a little valley down which Wanders a Small creek. along the creek,
up the farther hillsides, and along their crests spreads woodland —
some of it old dense growth, the rest enthusiastic young trees. Nor
fencing nor habitation is visible there. I Call it my miniature
This area glowed with the same rich coloring as the tree patch,
seeming the brighter in that we were looking down upon much of it.
at the creek a huge; perfectly shaped tulip poplar Was at its
Christmas tree stage-- all still deep green Save for a few leaves
already yellow which were scattered about the green like carefully
placed golden ornaments. Nearby, in sharp contrast, stood a giant
sycamore entirely bare of leaves - a striking pattern of white
branches and great white trunk.
Farther up the hillside, amid yellow maples, towered the massive,
limbless trunk of a long-dead oak, heavily sheathed and muffled in
the deep maroon weavings of a virginia creeper. Palest of all, the
wild grape and bittersweet vines lay in classic curves over green and
colored tree alike, calling to mind the swagging of bead strings
upon Christmas trees. The lone black gum glowed like a ruby.
‘h‘ough all this color moved the birds and little animals. On the
luminous tree patch floor, grey squirrels rustled diligently, planting
acorns and nuts. Perched on a rosy—gold maple branch, two blue
jays seemed gaudy as butterflies. The mockingbird who stays all
winter, was dining on crimson velvet sumac heads, flicking his white
wing patches and singing as though spring had just arrived.
Bluebirds perched along the fence were like bits of falling sky
when they swooped earthward to capture insects, their voices as
liquid as a hidden brook.
a squirrel leaping from branch to branch in the hickories overhead
sent a shower of the big golden leaves drifting slowly down about
Gloomy, she said. . ~