{"product_id":"2940013182707","title":"A Napa Christchild","description":"An evening sky, broken by wandering clouds, which hastening onward\u003cbr\u003etoward the north, bear their rich gifts of longed-for rain to the brown\u003cbr\u003emeadows, filling the heavens from east to west with graceful lines and\u003cbr\u003eswelling bosoms, save, just at the horizon where the sun descended\u003cbr\u003epaints a broad, lurid streak of crimson, glowing amid the deepening\u003cbr\u003eshadows, a coal in dead, gray ashes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDarker grows the streak, as a stain of blood, while the clouds about it\u003cbr\u003enow assume a purple tinge with gloomier shadings; suddenly in the centre\u003cbr\u003eof the lurid field starts out as if that moment born to Earth, with\u003cbr\u003eclear, silver light, the Evening Star. The colour slowly fades till all\u003cbr\u003eis dead and ashy, and the silver star drops down below the purpled\u003cbr\u003ehills, leaving for a moment a soft, trembling twilight; the dense clouds\u003cbr\u003ethen rolling in between, blot out the last sign of departed day and\u003cbr\u003enight is come.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was Christmas Eve. The winter was late, and rain had fallen during\u003cbr\u003ethe last few weeks only, so that the fields were just assuming the fresh\u003cbr\u003epea-green colour of their new life, and the long, dead grass still\u003cbr\u003estanding above the recent growth gave that odd smokey appearance to the\u003cbr\u003ehills and mesas, so familiar to all us Californians also in our olive\u003cbr\u003egroves. The night, however, was dark and nothing of hills, or mesas, or\u003cbr\u003egray fields, could be seen as the hurrying bands of clouds joined\u003cbr\u003etogether in one great company, overspreading the whole sky and clothing\u003cbr\u003eall in a dreary shroud of blackness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe little arroyo, which was dry in the summertime, had now risen,\u003cbr\u003eincreased by last week's tribute to be quite a large stream, tearing\u003cbr\u003enoisely among the rocks and over its old courses, giving friendly\u003cbr\u003egreetings of recognition to the old water-marks and dashing a playful\u003cbr\u003ewave now and then about the worn roots of the enormous laurel tree whose\u003cbr\u003ebranches reached high above and far around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBeneath the tree's protecting limbs, a little cabin, of roughest\u003cbr\u003eworkmanship, found shelter from the wind, or shade from the intense heat\u003cbr\u003eof summer; the house was built almost entirely of logs, excepting the\u003cbr\u003eupper part where boards had been used and through which were cut the\u003cbr\u003ethree windows which served to light the single room it contained.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis Christmas Eve, only the dark form of the cabin was to be seen with\u003cbr\u003ethe tall adobe chimney built up the outside; the smoke blew, beaten here\u003cbr\u003eand there, about the roof till it finally disappeared, a cloud of\u003cbr\u003eghosts, among the swaying branches of the laurel tree.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy day in the sunshine, no pleasanter spot could be found than the\u003cbr\u003elittle cabin and broad fields of Crescimir the Illyrian, no lovelier\u003cbr\u003eview of the rich Napa Valley could be had than from the hill where\u003cbr\u003eCrescimir's cattle grazed and no happier home could have been found in\u003cbr\u003eall the Californias than his, had he not been so alone, without a friend\u003cbr\u003eand far from his native country.","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47069836804336,"sku":"2940013182707","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013182707_p0.jpg?v=1763577876","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013182707","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}