The resemblance to
water is increased when there are groves and buildings on the horizon,
which look like dark blue islands or banks in the distance, while the
cattle and horses feeding not far from the spectator appear to be
wading knee or belly deep in the brilliant water.
The aspect of the plain was different in what was called a "thistle
year," when the giant thistles, which usually occupied definite areas
or grew in isolated patches, suddenly sprang up everywhere, and for a
season covered most of the land. In these luxuriant years the plants
grew as thick as sedges and bulrushes in their beds, and were taller
than usual, attaining a height of about ten feet. The wonder was to
see a plant which throws out leaves as large as those of the rhubarb,
with its stems so close together as to be almost touching. Standing
among the thistles in the growing season one could in a sense _hear_
them growing, as the huge leaves freed themselves with a jerk from a
cramped position, producing a crackling sound. It was like the
crackling sound of the furze seed-vessels which one hears in June in
England, only much louder.
To the gaucho who lives half his day on his horse and loves his
freedom as much as a wild bird, a thistle year was a hateful period of
restraint.
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