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VII
SUNLIGHT
HE sky is always blue above the clouds—so runs
a proverb in the north as a consolation for our
gloomy weather and our every-day cares. And from
such ancient sayings we draw strength to meet more
gray weather and more cares.
The Andalusian would fall sick and die if he had to
accept such consolation—he lacks our highly developed
sense of the abstract. But he fares very well without
it, for the sun rises every day for months and sets again
without a fleck of cloud. And the heaven’s arch is so
deep and warmly blue that we should fail to recognize
it even on our loveliest summer days. The Moors had
every reason to call Andalusia the earthly Paradise.
In January, the mountain-tops are white with snow, but
el Sol criador—the creating sun—rises every morning
and warms the snow, sends it flowing down in crystal
streams along the mountain slopes and bedecking its
path with flowers: with blue irises, daisies, and bright-
eyed marguerites. “See! There is the Creator! Be-
hold God,” say the people, their eyes shining, when
the sun rises over the hills. And while the peasant is
gathering his olive-crop, the orange-groves still glow
with their golden fruits and the almond-trees are white
with blossoms. Autumn and spring join hands across
the threshold of the new year!
According to meteorological observations made in
the province of Malaga, the rain fell in the province
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