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Volume 002-5 - October 1949 (2 pages)
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Page: of 2
The Legend of the Snow Plant
Long ago the Wind God, who ruled over
the mountains in winter, became angry with
the Washoes. He heaped so much snow and
biting cold over the land, the sun, ‘‘giver of
life’ could not reach the earth. Even his
warmest rays became as frosty spears, making
all the creatures that walked or crawled afraid
to come out from their deep hiding places. The
great quantities of dried food which the Indians had gathered during the summer had
dwindled to a few morsels, which the children
fought over; and the Evil One (death) crept
among the Campoodies snatching many away
from the tribe.
The chief, wishing to save his people, went
along to a high hill and called aloud to the
Wind God. A great roaring voice answered
him asking him what he wanted. The chief,
unafraid, spoke saying he had come to offer his
life as a sacrifice to free the earth from snow.
Though the heart of the god was touched by
the bravery of the Indian, he could think of
no use he could make of him, so he refused
to grant the prayer, and the chief turned sorrowfully homeward.
Suddenly the god remembered that within
the valley dwelt this man’s daughter. At
thought of her all the anger went out of his
heart for often had he stealthily crept to watch
her as she helped her mother to grind the acorns. As a gentle zephyr, he had caressed her
cheek while she sat in front of the wigwam
making willow baskets in the sunshine. He
knew she was beautiful and as good as the
wyethis whose yellow blossoms brightened
all the hillsides, and whose seeds healed the
sick. And now he wanted her for his bride.
rom
In a voice low and gentle as the breezes in
summer, he called to the chief. Then as the
Indian turned, the god spoke of his desire and
the father’s heart became as though dead, and
he grew cold and weak as awithered leaf for he
knew that to save his people he must give up
his daughter. Life without her would be to
him as the day without the sun.
At the door of his wigwam the young maiden watched for his return. Seeing him so
changed, she cried out asking him the reason.
Then, as he sadly told her what the Wind
God wanted, she lowered her head in obedience, asking only that she might have time to
say “Goodbye” to all the forest trees which
she loved.
For three days she could be seen walking
among the pines and the tamaracks. Then she
was seen no more. Each day the air grew
warmer and soon the ground was bare except
beneath the trees of the forest. Because th:
were cold with sadness, they stretched the.
purple shadows over the snow, which lay at
their roots, to prevent its melting. They wanted
its chill to keep the new life of the earth from
flowing into their hearts; but, since the new
life could not go into the trees, it turned into
beautiful blood red blossoms which came up
through the snow, covering the ground whereever the feet of the young girl had trod.
To this day, every year when only the
patches of snow under the trees is left unmelted ‘the snow plant appears to keep the
memory of the Indian maiden fresh in the
hearts of the Washoes.
—Contributed by Mrs. Nonette V. Hennessy
Vol. 2-No.
NEVADA COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY