A Day at Wesley’s Spring On the ground beneath the willows, By a mountain Spring we lay I and my two fair companions, We had ridden far that day. Early had we left the highway, Reigned our horses toward the west Climbed a steep and narrow trail Leading to the mountain’s crest. Here we stopped to look about us; Far below the river rolls, And the scene spread out before us Thrills us to our very souls. On the ledge beneath the summit We explore the famous caves Marvel at the Indian writing, Legends of the ancient brave. Farther westward Santa Lucia Rises in her majesty, Queen of all the Coast Range mountains; Fills our hearts with ecstasy. When the sun grew high at noontide To this fairy spring we came, Ate our lunch and at our leisure, Breathed the beauty of the scene. Late we turn our faces homeward; Hear the wind sing in the pine; Silently we ride together Kindred Spirits, comrades mine. Brown eyes Marion, brave and charming, Hazel, to your ideals true, I, with all my heart’s best wishes, Pen those faltering lines to you. Mabel E. Plaskett
Mabel Sans Plaskett was born in Coralitas near Ben Lomond in the Santa Cruz Mountain area of California. Her father Edward Robert Sans ran a saw mill near Pacific Valley, along the Nacimiento – Ferguson road to the coast at Highway One. It was there she met Edward Abbott Plaskett, her husband. Mabel wrote about the coast and the pioneers of the 19th and 20th Centuries.