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Pn par never dora cries hy ; 1 ‘ jae Te) w eure it vac; 1 { dy hy ' ' hp 43 , rat , red tieee j ' ( ‘ 1 ' risa ; t i} a ! : abe Alina chit ‘ Gea tat 1 t a hesded als H dil ' raat ) j : jy > 16 b ; t bores win Das aan ’ ne tad ‘ U ‘ , ia 1th at ho wei i dadaha nig +t rear ree FEL To Li jy agit ree F i ‘ ‘, io his hedeé a oe fy ib J ein dust 5 had se logh we ‘ he Rue aod , ; t f te bat 4 4K } / has el boty rf haa 4 ii Pere hice bit 4 ; H el Seared Maysar re rr sr ; 1% ri TRUE feet.) ts " 20, wo oe eee re Re Pe] Hires Bi yh erect paraanee end! or Beeb b 7, see gels e a blake ~ tio ne i ‘ é http://www.archive.org/details/accordingtoseaso0 ay ar LIVERWORT Hepatica triloba ACCORDING EO SEASON TALKS ABOUT THE FLOWERS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE IN THE WOODS AND FIELDS BY FRANCES THEODORA PARSONS AUTHOR OF ‘*HOW TO KNOW THE WILD FLOWERS,” *‘HOW TO KNOW THE FERNS,” ETC. NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION WITH THIRTY-TWO PLATES IN COLOR BY ELSIE LOUISE SHAW ae ee eR na Ah! well I mind the calendafy Mey Faithful through = thousgd "ress RIOR DEPART, > >> Sy Of the painted race of flowe | IFRRARY “JAN 10 1206 - NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 1902 : ; CopyRIGHT, 1894, 1902, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS —_ ng d GOL TROW DIRECTORY PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY NEW YORK We “ey a ; ‘ + , : 1 ‘ i t* y r 4 rsG as ue 5 ¢ : ‘ ¥ , 1 : ii Y fe jp af h' . # - . Veer f Ni “ r ary rim 4 4 i (iw hae wy " 4) +. 7 (oe r Co re \ ‘ é f 1 4 4 | ba 4 4 Oe tah " i i i : ; ~ AN INVOCATION I Great mother, now a suppliant I kneel Where grassy aisles lead to thine altars green And flower-fragrant ; where thou dost reveal Thyself in all the majesty serene Of thy vast motherhood. Alone and long Have I kept vigil neath this piercéd roof Through which the sunlight flecks the piny floor, Where tawny thrushes hold themselves aloof Yet flood the woodland with their golden song, As though they too were eager to adore. II Or else on some gray curve of sandy beach, Where lace-like waves with soft insistence hide Their glittering treasures till at last they reach The weed-strown limits of the swollen tide ; Where in my face I felt the bitter spray, And joyed to know the sweet sting of thy kiss ; And where I caught the salt wind in my teeth Like some keen lover who is loth to miss A single charm, there oft entranced I lay And drew in deep draughts of thy briny breath, Iit Or else perhaps I sought some meadow low Where deep-fringed orchids reared their feathery spires, Where lilies nodded by the river slow, And milkweeds burned in red and orange fires ; vii AN INVOCATION Where bright-winged blackbirds flashed like living coals, And reed-birds fluted from the swaying grass ; There shared I in the laden bee’s delight, Quivered to see the dark cloud-shadows pass Beyond me; loved and yearned to know the souls Of bird and bee and flower, of day and night. IV ? And so thy worshipper of many years, Thy child and servant, who has made no prayer For self, who in her eager suit reveres And worships but the more, now craves thy care For this her child. Endow him with her love Of all thy creatures ; make him long to know The meaning of thy moods, that he may win The later joy that comes when thou dost show Thine own self to him ; thus his life shall prove In days tocome that all of thine are kin. v Let the blue wonder of those dreamy eyes Grow deeper as they dwell upon that sea Which yields allegiance to the lofty skies In rhythmic swells of tidal harmony ; Their sight be quick for hint of bird or sail Against the distant reach of boundless blue, Or for the throbbing radiance of the star, Or curve of shell, or flower’s tender hue, Thy holy places one by one unveil Nor will thy child to worship from afar. VI Thyself translate the Angelus yon thrush Hymns from its tree-top at the twilight hour, And whisper low the secret of the hush Which thrills the forest with its sacred power. viii AN INVOCATION Make keen his ears for sighing of the trees ' And water flowing swift among the stones, And insects droning through the summer night, And for those sombre diapason-tones In which is voiced the anger of the seas When stirred by Heaven to proclaim their might. VII Let him exult in battling with fierce wind, And joy to breast the breakers swept with foam, To scale their seething walls, athirst to find Fresh-hissing steeps beyond. Or if he roam Where seas of grass surge toward the setting sun Be beast and bird his brethren. May his sleep Be sweetest when upon thy tender breast He lies, where slumber is not yet so deep But that the slipping hours bring everyone Dim benedictions to enhance his rest. Vill - Sweet mother, though I long have worshipped thee, Finding great peace at each majestic altar, Knowing my sorrow soothed when at thy knee I lose my soul in thine,—how oft I falter Because I know thee not as I would know, Because I am not great enough to grasp All of thy mystery ; wherefore I pray That thou wilt teach my darling so to clasp Thy hidden meanings that at last he grow To godlike stature and full light of day. CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTORY . : ; ‘ ; By Oe WINTER 7 ; j . ; : or he De eany Gr ricpses STU aTeN ie panier ets vote ee _ SPRING IN THE City . ; ; é a A Sprinc Houipay . ; a veld sh) 30 May Notes : ; ‘ ; ; i 55 “Tur Leary MONTH OF JUNE”. aay A Lone IsLanp MEADow . ; , - 99 -MipsumMER : ‘ ; : He EARLy AUGUST . : ; : : . 139 GOLDEN-ROD AND ASTER . ‘ ‘ aS So AUTUMN. f , , ‘ ‘ pgs ; ‘ - " ; s - k . 181 CLINTONIA, BuncH BERRY, . BLUE FLAG, . CANCER Root, PINK AZALEA, COTTON-GRASS, STEEPLE-BUSH, SKUNK CABBAGE, MarsH MARIGOLD, . . CRINKLE-ROOT, . ‘f FIDDLEHEADS ” CINNAMON FERN, ' COLTSFOOT, . WAKE RoBIN, . ROUND-LEAVED VIOLET, RARE FORM OF THE CoMMON BLUE VIOLET, LONG-SPURRED VIOLET, . FoAM FLOWER, . . PAINTED TRILLIUM, . FLOWER AND FRUIT OF COLORED PLATES Hepatica triloba, . Frontispiece FACING PAGE Symplocarpus fetidus, . 8 Caltha palustris, 22 Dentaria diphylla, . 26 Osmunda cinnamomea, 32 Tussilago Farfara, . 36 Trillium erectun,. . 42 Viola rotundifolia, . 46 Viola cucullata var. palmata, 50 Viola rostrata, St 58 Tiarella cordifolia,. . . 62 Trillium erythrocarpum, . 66 Clintonia borealis, 68 Cornus Canadensis, 72 Calypso borealis, 82 Lris versicolor,. 84 Aphylion unifiorum, 88 Rhododendron nudiflorum, 96 Eriophorum Virginicum and E. gracile, . . 102 Spiraea tomentosa, . . I10 xiii COLORED PLATES PLATE XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. GREAT BURNET,. . PuRPLE MILKWEED, Woop LILy, . WHITE SWAMP HONEY- SUCRE Se cic be, Jor PYE-WEED, . NEw ENGLAND ASTER, TURTLE-HEAD, BALSAM FIR, . HOBBLE-BUSH, FRUIT OF TRILLIUM, . GRASS OF PARNASSUS, . PAINTED FRUIT OF MOUNTAIN MAPLE, Poterium Canadense, . Asclepias purpurascens, Lilium Philadelphicum, . Rhododendron viscosum, Eupatorium purpureum, Aster Nove Anglia, Chelone glabra, . . Abies balsamea, . Viburnum lantanoides, Trillium erythrocarpum, . Parnassia Caroliniana, Acer spicatum, . . «+ xiv + ————— _ INTRODUCTORY f ' 7 f \ \ Self-sown my stately garden grows; The winds and wind-blown seed, Cold April rain and colder snows My hedges plant and feed. From mountains far and valleys near The harvests sown to-day | Thrive in all weathers without fear,— Wild planters, plant away! . —Binexsow Ralssld titi tn (hs peste Hs Ie = re ee Ga ae ne I INTRODUCTORY That we know so little, as a people, of our birds, trees, rocks, and flowers, is not due, I think, so much to any inborn lack of appreciation of the beautiful or interesting, as to the fact that we have been obliged to concentrate our energies in those directions which seemed to lead to some immedi- ate material advantage, leaving us little time to expend upon the study of such objects as promised to yield no tangible remuneration. Then, too, our struggle for existence has taken place largely in towns where there is almost nothing to awaken any dormant love of nature. But, little by little, we are changing all that. Each year a larger portion of our city population is able to seek the refreshment and inspiration of the country during those.months when it is almost, if not quite, at its loveliest. And while among this constantly in- creasing class there are many, undoubtedly, who “having eyes to see, see not,” even among sights sufficiently fraught with interest, one would sup- pose, to awaken the curiosity of the dullest, yet 3 Love of nature on the increase Habit of observa- tion ACCORDING TO SEASON there are others, many others, who can cry with Mr. Norman Gale, *¢ And oh, my heart has understood The spider’s fragile line of lace, The common weed, the woody space!” who are quick to detect each bird-song, and eager to trace it to its source; who follow curiously the tiny tracks of the wood creatures; who note the varied outlines of the forest leaves, and discover the smallest of the flowers that grow beneath them. If we do not happen ourselves to be blessed with a natural turn for observation, a little com- panionship with one of these more fortunate be- ings will persuade us, I think, that the habit is one which it would be both possible and desirable to cultivate. It had never occurred to me, for ex- ample, that it would be worth while to look for wild flowers on Fifth Avenue, until a certain morning when a keen-eyed botanical companion stooped and plucked from an earth-filled chink in its pavement, a little blossom which had found its way hither from some country lane. Since then I have tried to keep my wits about me even on that highway of the Philistines. We are prone, most of us, to be inaccurate as well as unobservant; and I know of no better an- tidote to inaccuracy than a faithful study of plants. It is sometimes difficult for the flower-lover to 4 INTRODUCTORY control his impatience when he hears his favorites recklessly miscalled; and in this improving exer- cise he has ample opportunity to become profi- cient, for many people cling with peculiar tenac- ity and unreasonableness to their first erroneous impression of a flower’s name. They consider anything so vague and poetic fair game for their ready imaginations, glibly tacking the name of one flower to another with inconsequential light- heartedness. Occasionally they have been really misled by some similarity of sound. Such was the case of an acquaintance of mine who persisted in informing the various companions of his ram- bles that the little pink-flowered shrub which blossoms in June on our wooded hill-sides was the sheep-sorrel; and refused to be persuaded that the correct title was sheep-laurel. His ear had caught the words incorrectly ; but although this explanation was suggested, supplemented by the arguments that the laurel-like look of the flowers at once betrayed their lineage, and that the sheep- sorrel was the plant with halberd-shaped leaves and tiny clustered flowers which in spring tinges with red the grassy uplands, he would only reply with dignified decision that his conviction was based on trustworthy authority. So, perhaps, in at least one small circle, sheep-laurel is sheep-sor- rel to this day. 5 An anti- dote to inaccuracy Sheep- laurel or sheep- sorrel Popular conception of an or- chid ACCORDING TO SEASON But the uninitiated probably allow their imag- inations to run more rife with the orchids than with any other flowers. Usually they are quite positive as to the general correctness of their con- ception of an orchid, and unless you are prepared to be made the object of a very genuine aversion, you will beware of trying to convince them of the error of their ways. In response to any such at- tempt they will defiantly challenge you: “ Well, then, what zs an orchid?” and woe betide you if. you cannot couch your reply in half a dozen words of picturesque and unmistakable descrip- tion. The term orchid is dear to their hearts. Whenever they discover a rare and striking flower they like to grace it with the title, and are sure to bear you a grudge for depriving them of the pleasurable power of conferring this mark of floral knighthood at will. Last year a friend of mine happened for the first time upon the lovely fringed polygala. Her delight in its butterfly beauty was unbounded. Having learned its name and studied its odd form she turned appealingly tome: “Could you ever call it an orchid?” she asked; and I was unpleasantly conscious of my apparent churlishness in refusing to ennoble, even temporarily, so exquisite a creation. “T like flowers, but I hate to pull them to pieces,” is the cry of the lazy nature-lover. Surely 6 ia INTRODUCTORY if we like a thing we wish to know something about it, to enjoy some intimacy with it, to learn its secrets. Who actually cares most for flowers, the man who glances admiringly at them and turns away, or he who studies their structure, in- quires into the function of each part, reads the meaning of their marvellous coloring, and trans- lates the invitation expressed by their fragrance? I doubt if he who has never been so brutal as “to pull a flower to pieces,’ even dimly understands all the strange, sweet joy of a wood walk, when we are tempted eagerly—almost breathlessly— but always reverently, with the reverence that is born of even the beginnings of knowledge, and by so much superior to that which springs from ig- norance, to turn the pages and decipher what we can “In nature’s infinite book of secrecy.” When we learn to call the flowers by name we take the first step toward a real intimacy with them. An eager sportsman who had always noticed and wondered about the plants which he met on every fishing expedition, wrote to me a few weeks since that hitherto he had felt toward them as the charity-boy did about the alphabet, “he knew the little beggars by sight, but he couldn’t tell their names”! And it has seemed as 7 The begin- nings of knowledge The names of the flowers ACCORDING TO SEASON though a series of papers describing the different flowers to be found in the woods and fields, and by the road-sides, during the months suggested in their titles, might not only be helpful to those who care to “ tell their names,” but might increase the actual number of plants discovered, as one is far more likely to be successful in his search if he have a definite conception of what he can reason- ably hope to find. This edition of ‘“ According to Season”’ contains a number of new chapters, some of which are not confined to descriptions of flowers. Indeed, the opening chapter is a slight study of winter, when, of course, no out-door plants are blossom- ing, save under extraordinary conditions. But it has seemed as though the inclusion of every sea- son would make the book more complete, more in harmony perhaps with the spirit of its title. Thanks are due to the editors of the New York Tribune and of The Outlook for permission to re- publish some of the following chapters. —-— Dal hae ee H ee ft . i) ey is ty bah Aiantt iV mK x La Hi te II WINTER During the winter [ am content—or try to think I am—to make my head-quarters in town and to get fresh air and a broader outlook at in- tervals that are frequent, but still at intervals. Perhaps the walk or the drive out to the frozen lake among the hills for an afternoon’s skating is the more keenly relished because of a busy week elsewhere. For all practical purposes nature is at a standstill. There is little chance that she will steal a march on me in the few days that intervene between my visits of inspection. And there is a wonderful joy in leaving behind the noisy city streets and starting out along the white road that leads across the hills. With each breath of the sharp, reviving air one seems to in- hale new life. A peace as evident as the sunshine on the fields takes possession of one’s inner being. The trivial cares which fretted like a swarm of mosquitoes are driven away by the first sweep of the wind that comes straight from the mountains. The graver anxieties seem to have dwindled in It Value of contrast “ House- bred”’ troubles A sctentist under diffi- culties ACCORDING TO SEASON size as though in some unexplained way their proportions also were influenced by that same range of distant hills. Thoreau says that “ many of our troubles are housebred.” The tendency to magnify petty difficulties, to consider one’s special problems impossible of solution, might be conquered, I believe, nine times out of ten, could we get out of doors and turn our attention to the impersonal but absorbing problems ready to pre- sent themselves to the open-eyed pedestrian. It is not possible always to run away from the rou- tine of every-day life, but it is possible often when we fail to do it. The chances are that the thing we are striving to accomplish is not half so important or so inspiring as the thing that is crowded out. We may not think it wise “to postpone all to hear the locust sing,’ but I believe we should find more stimulus in association with our kind were we less weighted with the obliga- tion todo an endless number of comparatively unimportant things. One of the best botanists and ornithologists I know is a New York business man whose hours are long and whose work is exacting. But dur- ing his brief holidays and in the early morning he has seen sights and come to conclusions which have given him a high place in the estimation of his fellow-botanists and ornithologists. Few of 12 WINTER us Can anticipate such results, but with greater opportunities many of us might experience in some degree the joy of observation and investi- gation. The time will come, I hope, when I can spend a whole year in the country. It is perfectly true that the contrast between town and country gives a flavor to both in turn that otherwise would be lacking. But unless on the spot all the year round the country-lover is sure to miss many events of importance. During the winter espe- cially, when vegetable life is dormant and when animal life is infrequent, an occasional walk is likely to be poor in episodes of striking interest. In the books of John Burroughs and in Thoreau’s journals I read enviously the winter notes on owls, partridges, red-polls, cross-bills, chickadees, and nuthatches, on mink, musk-rats, foxes, and squirrels. But even these brief lists covered nota single walk or a special day; they were the results of weeks of observation on the part of unusually keen observers. For myself, almost the only birds that I see on my occasional country walks in winter are the crows. Perhaps because of this their cries as they reach my ear through the frozen silence sound pleasing and really musical. And I like to pause and watch them flap their deliberate way across 13 Winter notes Crows Winter birds Su0w- bunting in Forty- etghth Sireet ACCORDING TO SEASON the snowy fields, their jet-black bodies thrown in relief against the blue sky and the white hill-side. | Occasionally I discover a hawk circling high ‘overhead. Its slow, majestic evolutions are full ‘of poetic grandeur. I feel sure the hawk exults in its own grace and power, it lingers so long _and lovingly on its marvellous curves. That chickadees, nuthatches, woodpeckers, even robins and bluebirds and a number of less common species are with us all or a part of the winter, as the books tell us, I do not doubt, but I rarely see any of them before March. In some sheltered spots they must wear out the nipping days and nights, venturing now and then into the barnyard or upon the doorstep for scattered grain or kindly crumbs and scraps. Once or twice I have noticed a flock of juncoes in the city back-yard, driven to town, I suppose, for supplies. The only snow-bunting I ever saw was on West Forty-eighth Street, in New York City, where it had joined a group of English spar- rows and was foraging in the gutter as contented- ly as though it were not more at home in Arctic regions. In the country in winter man seems to be al- most as inactive as beasts and birds. If it were not for the smoke that drifts from its chimney the farm-house would appear deserted. Occasionally 14 WINTER a sound of wood-chopping comes from the barn. Across the frozen pond the ploughman of last Winier year guides his horse as he marks the ice for the vide. geslh winter harvest. Near the shore, his pronged ‘#5 sticks suspended over holes in the ice, the fisher- man waits expectantly for pickerel. Here and there, with skates and sleds and eager young voices, the boys and girls add a touch of life to what seems almost like death. Occasionally a party of young people on skees transform a snowy hill-side into a scene of unrestrained gayety. A pine-bordered lake echoes the exultant cries of a group of skate-sailers, while along the neighbor- ing river noiselessly and triumphantly skim white- winged ice-boats. But these evidences of life are rare and in the nature of a surprise. For the occasional visitor the value of the win- ter walk lies in his immediate surroundings. The intense silence that broods over the snow-bound land is a conscious blessing. The deep blue of the sky and the purple shadows cast by the trees and plants are a feast to the eye. The crunch of the snow-rind beneath his feet and the varied hum of the telegraph wires overhead are music to his “ears. Many of the oaks are rustling with leather-like Oak-leaves leaves. I do not know why some of the oaks are well covered with dead leaves while others are 15 Pitch-pine, hemlock, and spruce Herbaceous plants An inter- esting winter study ACCORDING TO SEASON almost naked. Thoreau claims that the young trees only retain their leaves, while he quotes Michaux as saying that this habit is peculiar to the white oak. The pitch-pine, its rugged, spreading branches holding great burdens of snow, is never so effec- tive as at this season. The hemlocks and spruces also are strangely beautiful with their coating of snow, while the shrubs are hung with white gar- lands like a prophecy of spring. An important part in the winter landscape is played by the dead grasses and other herbaceous plants, especially by various members of the composite family, such as the asters, golden-rods, and sunflowers. Wreathed in snow or incased in ice, they present a singularly graceful and fantas- tic appearance. Or, perhaps, the slender stalks and branches armed with naked seed-pods trace intricate and delicate shadows on the smooth snow. The deciduous trees make an interesting winter study. At this season a tree lays bare its individ- uality. We note the angle at which its branches _ spring from the main trunk, the degree and direc- tion in which these branches curve, the appear- ance of the bark, the arrangement of the buds, as we can at no other period of the year. It is something of an accomplishment as well as a 16 pt WINTER pastime to be able to name correctly the leafless trees and shrubs as we drive along the road or flash by on the train. The winter buds are a distinct stimulus to our lagging enthusiasm on days when spring seems too distant to be real. Each one is a promise to pay at an early date on which we can rely with confidence. The catkins of the alders are deco- rative as well as encouraging, decorative to an unusual degree after a storm when each little tassel enclosed in ice sparkles and quivers in the sunshine like a jewelled pendant. Toward the latter part of winter even the un- observant become conscious of these winter buds. With the first mild days of February they swell and their color deepens. Especially in the up- permost ones, which receive the greatest share of sunshine, this is noticeable. The pulse quickens as we notice for the first time that the tree-tops on the wooded hill-side, gray and lifeless since November, are flushed with rosy color. The tops of the willows and the osiers are turning golden-yellow. The brambles and many other shrubs take on deep red and purple tints. When the sun has melted the snow, or even where you push away the frozen crust, you are surprised to find the bright-green root-leaves of many plants that are not considered hardy, such 17 Winter buds Tree-tops become rosy Root- leaves ACCORDING TO SEASON as different members of the mustard family, chick- weed, buttercup, speedwell, and others. Appar- ently they have profited by their icy covering. Spring is Spring is in the cock’s crow and in the dog’s ai bark. It is in the fresh, stimulating odor that comes up from the earth, just bared to the sun- shine. It is no longer wise for the nature-lover to procrastinate. 18 SKUNK CABBAGE Symplocarpus fetidus PLATE | ; Sieh 4] ia) 4 ths ‘ Pe ah ee ' . . A v a _ In a pleasant spring morning all men’s sins are for Ill EARLY GLIMPSES Even so faithful and experienced a watcher as Thoreau wrote: “ No mortal is alert.enough to be awake at the first dawn.of spring.” However _ eagerly we look each morning for the bursting of the earliest bud, or however zealously we listen a for the actual song of the first bird, our bird or our flower, when it does come, is almost sure either to have been antedated by another, or to bear about it unmistakable evidence of having _ been on the scene for some days. One of the first indications of the general a awakening is given by the fallen keys of the maples. Before the last thin sheet of snow has melted, you see the maple-keys, or rather half-keys, for each pair is broken in two, standing erect, with uplifted wing, the seed-case usually burrow- ing its way into the earth before striking root. ae The seeds of two of our best-known maples, the M t red and the white, do not postpone their germina- tion till the spring following their maturity, but _ Often begin this work as soon as the keys have 21 The dawn of spring Mapile- keys Catkins push out Bee and butterfly appear ACCORDING TO SEASON fallen. The early ripening of the fruit of these two species, which are the first to flower, secures the most favorable conditions for the speedy ger- mination of their seed. The bursting of the uppermost buds of these two maples, the pushing out of the catkins on the willows, poplars, alders, and birches, and the ap- pearance in the swampy woods of the green, red, and purplish hoods of the skunk-cabbage are almost simultaneous, fresh signs that the year is carrying on her leisurely preparations for summer, Every hour now we expect some new evidence of her progress. The bee is ready to steal the pollen from the first tassel that turns yellow on the brook- loving willow. The pretty mourning cloak but- terfly, its brown, velvety wings bordered with buff and spotted with blue, crawls out from the wood-pile into the sunshine. In the woods the chickadees, and in the gardens the juncoes, are chipping and chattering, while closely ranked, the cedar waxwings fly from one tree to another. All these are so-called winter birds, but to me they become frequent and conspicuous only in early spring. These days, with what is almost homesickness, I watch for the first robin. It is useless to look for him when the ground is covered with snow. But when the bare, brown earth comes through 22 MARSH MARIGOLD Caltha palustris PLATE Il “a $Y EARLY GLIMPSES 3 in great patches that are as fresh and sweet to the nostrils as they are welcome to the eyes, in ‘ | some strange, unexplained fashion I am conscious _ that the robins have come. I never know just q “when and how this welcome and always thrilling j ‘discovery is made. Before I see them I feel them. Perhaps their voices reach me through a the distance so faintly at first that I do not rec- aa lognize fully their presence. But suddenly, with- lout surprise, I hear close overhead that sharp -clucking call, curiously human and suggestive of the anxious would-be householder. After a mo- ment’s search I see him high among the topmost, leafless branches of the elm. He stands motion- less, his bright red breast shining in the sun- light. Then with another clucking cry he flies away. Sometimes for a day or two he seems to ‘be alone, but usually within fifteen minutes one or more of his fellows appear, with such an air of being at home that I feel sure they must have been on hand for several days. But whether or | no this be the case matters little. With the coming of the first robin a peculiar elation possesses me. | However blustering and snowy the March winds, they cannot foolme now. Youth and hope as- -sert their eternal sway and melt the frozen rills of my being as surely as the sunshine is breaking up every brook that must find its way to the sea. 23 Song of the robin The blue- bird ACCORDING TO SEASON The robin is not a rarity, but his advent makes the old man young again; for the moment it turns the dullard into a poet. It may be some weeks before we hear the song of the robin, but this year I heard it during the latter half of March, within a few days of its first appearance. Its early morning call greeted my ears before I was fairly awake, and late in the afternoon, in heavy rain as well as in clear weather, the serene, melodious strain came to me from the tree-tops. It is a simple song but it isa beautiful one, speaking of faith and hope. There is an element of sadness about it which may be lent by the listener, I hardly know. But I do know that in all nature there is no sound which so swiftly takes one back to the happy, hopeful days of early life. The bluebird, as compared with the robin, is a rarity in my neighborhood. It arrives usually a little later, and, though I have been on the watch for days, its blue, wavering flight and elusive song have always the effect of unexpectedness. It dis- appears as suddenly as it comes. Almost before I am sure it is here, out of sight it flashes. Till l have seen it for the second or third time I cannot be comfortably confident that the sudden vision is more than a dream. In my experience it lacks the aggressiveness and persistence which keep the 24 EARLY GLIMPSES 3 robins with us, however unfriendly their environ- ment. The robin is not to be driven from the neighborhood because of prowling cats, and bark- _ ing dogs, and small boys with slings and a thirst for blood. Just as surely as the military ring in his voice assures you of his determination to stand up for his rights, the tremulous, confiding song of the bluebird expresses the doctrine of non-resist- ance. In this way there seems a sort of benedic- _ tion in its companionship, a suggestion that the social atmosphere is charged with the “ charity ”’ _ and the“ purity ” which it preaches with such rare and persistent melody. Almost simultaneously with the robins and blue- birds arrive the purple grackles. One welcomes them for what they represent rather than for what they are. Their plumage, with its iridescent ’ blacks, greens, and purples, is beautiful, but their 4 voices are strangely discordant, with the rusty _ creak of unoiled machinery. Occasionally in some note lurks a possibility of sweetness, but immedi- _ ately it goes off'into a discouraging squeak. Their _ manners also are rude and restless. We endure, __ however, even welcome, the grackles, because they _ are among the first heralds of spring. The arrival of the song-sparrow, like that of the _ robin and bluebird, is among the uncertainties of _ the season. This little creature does not give vent 25 The blue- ° bird’s ben- ediction Purple grackles ACCORDING TO SEASON Song- at once to that strain of joyous confidence which sparre® ater becomes so frequent. At first he hops stealthily about the bushes, lisping occasional sweet but hesitating notes, which we trace to their source with difficulty, if at all. As time goes on he gains boldness, and soon his gay little carol sounds from every quarter. These are the days when we wait eagerly the passing of the fox-sparrows. Some windy March morning they are blown in upon us like an eddy- ing gust of dead leaves. Then their song, the most complete and musical of the year so far, “a Fox-spar- Yichly modulated whistle,” seeming more like the lau perfect product of the mature year than the strain of some passing minstrel, reaches our delighted ears. For several days we watch them, plump, sparrowlike birds, with rich red-brown markings, scratching for seeds in the red-brown, leafless thicket. But one morning we stealthily approach their chosen feeding-ground, our ears alert for the fresh, airy, jubilant carol which has greeted us before, and all is silent. The fox-sparrows are on the way to their chosen resting-place in the far North. : If one quite ignorant of birds and their ways wishes to become better informed he should begin his ornithological studies during this month of March. In the first place, so few species are pres- 26 — PLATE Ill CRINKLE-ROOT Dentaria diphylla EARLY GLIMPSES 4 | ent that he is able with some degree of thorough- ' ness and in a leisurely fashion to acquaint himself with the appearance and habits of one bird or species at a time. In the second place, at this _ season the trees and bushes are leafless, affording an almost unobstructed view of the birds that light on their branches, whereas later in the year the masses of foliage constantly interrupt our obser- vations. In April it becomes less easy to keep count of the new arrivals in the bird-world, for soon they reach us in great numbers. Now we may hope to hear the ecstatic, bubbling notes of the purple finch, the penetrating whistle of the peabody bird, the fine trill of the chipping sparrow, the spring- like call of the meadow-lark, and the varied songs of kinglets, vireos, warblers, and many others. But even though these additions are so rapid as to be confusing, the trees are still almost bare, and the lover of birds should be abroad constantly. At times now the piping of the frogs is more noticeable than the bird-songs. Near a pond or close to marshy ground, just before sunset, the predominant sound is the shrill pipe of the hylas. A very inconspicuous but significant sign of the season is found, after diligent search, in the branches of the hazel. Scarcely later than the maple-blossoms the little pistillate flower of this 27 The month for the would-be ornitholo- gist April arrivals Frogs and hylas The flower of the hazel Liverwort and arbu- tus Early ever- lasting ACCORDING TO SEASON shrub ventures forth, “a crimson star, first dimly detected in the twilight,’ a star of the dawning rather than of the evening. Often I find at this same time the first faint-hued flowers of the liver- wort and the early blossoms of the arbutus. A dull-looking, uninteresting little plant, but one we ought to value because of the hardy per- sistence with which its silky leaves and yellowish flowers lighten the hill-sides when otherwise they are almost bare, is the plantain-leaved, or, as I have named it more to my satisfaction, the early everlasting. The record of these first weeks of spring is not a full one. It seems to me that March and April, far more than May, love to | “__ haggle with their greens an’ things.” But Hosea Biglow is right in liking our “ back’ard springs.” They whet our appetite amazingly. The joy of realization is doubled by that of antici- pation. I doubt whether the wealth of song and of blossom which delights us in June is worth more to us than the rare, suggestive notes that strike answering chords direct from our hearts, and the faint, unobtrusive flowers that meet our eyes one or two months earlier. 28 A NG IN THE CITY a _ and indescribable as the tints of mc ek: a Bre: IV SPRING IN THE CITY In the city as in the country there are marks of the changing seasons pregnant with suggestion to the nature-lover. One of the most unfailing season-marks in town is the turning on of the fountains in the public parks. How joyfully the liberated water flashes through the sunlit air. It seems to speak of the distant brooks that are released from bondage and free to ripple along their green-edged channels. There is a strange fascination about the sight and sound of water inmotion. The sparrows dash with mad enjoy- ment in and out beneath the beaded, iridescent curves. The children pause in their play to watch, with wide, wondering eyes, the sparkling jets. Even the grown-up passers-by seem to fall under the spell and join the little group for a few wistful moments. In the squares it seems as though in the space of twenty-four hours the grass had changed from dull brown to bright green. Here, too, we are convinced of the arrival of spring by the blossom- 31 Season- marks Water in motion Blossom- ing trees Flower- beds Florists’ windows ACCORDING TO SEASON ing trees. The great shining buds of the balm of i Gilead at last shake out their long tassels. The upper gold-tinged branches of the white poplar give a misty effect, which a careful inspection discovers to be due to a host of downy, close- set catkins. The elms and maples let out tiny clusters of red and yellow flowers—flowers so minute and comparatively insignificant that if one is caught, standing motionless, with head flung back, and eyes upraised, and is able to account for his apparently absurd attitude only by the ex- planation that, Japanese-like, he is “viewing the blossoms,” the chances are strong in favor of his being esteemed a harmless lunatic. Another season-sign is afforded by the flower- beds in these same squares. As soon as the frost is fairly out of the ground, the needle-like tips of the crocus appear. This plant is followed by tulip, hyacinth, and daffodil. But before they have time to blossom, the vases that front the clubs and restaurants are filled with deep-hued pansies and English daisies, the latter the culti- vated variety of Burns’s. “Wee, modest, crimson-tippit flower.” The florists’ windows yield a veritable feast of form and color. Even more of a delight are the street flower-stands, and the moving gardens 32 ** FIDDLEHEADS ”’ OF CINNAMON FERN Osmunda cinnamomea PLATE _ SPRING IN THE CITY ; in the shape of pedlers’ flower-carts. These last “4 seem like visions of a brighter world let into the a dismal monotony of our dreary side-streets. Strangely enough, few of these flowers which Foreign are peddled about the streets or sold in the shops, “””S are natives. And as one studies the gayly filled window, or half unconsciously notes the contents of the pedler’s cart, if he chance to be something of a traveller as well as a flower-lover, memories of many lands flash through his mind. The yellow jonquils now so abundant recall the rocky shores of southern Italy, for during that wonderful drive from Castellamare to Sorrento, ‘1 early in December (though properly and _ botani- cally these flowers belong to May), I first saw them at home. It has never been my good fort- une to find in its native haunts that near cousin Jonguils of the jonquil, the daffodil. But how abundant this is during the early spring in England no lover of Wordsworth need be told. And until he beholds it with other than the “inward eye,” he has in possible anticipation an enchanting ex- perience. With the crocus is associated my earliest Crocus glimpse of Switzerland. It was already late in August when, for the first time, I looked upon the Alps. And almost as great as my awe-struck exultation in the grandeur of the snow-capped 33 ~~ STO. PRIMES gar Datstes and prim- VOSEeS Spirea and gentsta Heath family ACCORDING TO SEASON mountains was my delight in the green meadows — at their feet, studded with the delicate blossoms of the fall crocus. A few days after this en- trance into Switzerland, during a climb up one of the lower mountains, I found the lovely cyclamen, and soon learned to look upon this peculiarly satis- fying flower, one of our most treasured importa- tions, as the natural companion of my walks. The little English daisy recalls a May morning at Hampton Court, where the smooth, grassy sweeps were starred with the dainty blossoms. The close bunches of yellow primroses ped- dled at the street-corners, conjure up a vision of that quiet, high-banked flower-girt lane where perhaps we first heard the nightingale, where certainly, once and for all, we fell under the spell of the tranquil beauty of the mother-country. One of our favorite Easter plants is the feathery white spirzea. This isa Japanese cousin of our well-known meadow-sweet and steeple-bush. The yellow genista, so abundant now, comes, I be- lieve, from New Zealand. It suggests the wild indigo so common with us in summer, and also the English broom, all three of these plants being closely allied. The lovely foreign heaths, which look as though they came straight from the Scotch moors, could claim kinship with our trail- ing arbutus, our mountain-laurel, and with other 34 AS mF % ry oy & Now cae SPRING IN THE CITY favorite plants which belong to the same heath family. Upon our avenues every sunny morning in early spring is found another season-mark which should not be overlooked. You could almost fancy that the floral decorations had not been confined to the squares, and to the grass-plots and vases that lie within the railings. All along the sidewalks, as far as the eye can reach, are patches of bright color. These bright patches are made by innumerable baby-carriages, whose gorgeous decorations harmonize in gay coloring with the pansies and daisies of the parks and win- dow-boxes. And lovelier than either pansies or daisies are the little flower-faces that beam from the dainty equipages. Another sign of the season is the call of “ straw- berries” from the street-venders. It is as full of suggestion as the first note of the bluebird. My journal last year records that I heard this call for the first time on the twenty-first; this year, I did not notice it till the fifth, about two weeks later ; just as the birds and flowers are a fortnight later this year than last. The English sparrows do their share in cele- brating the return of spring. If in no other way, the intensified colors of the plumage of the males would signify that the period of courtship was at 35 Flower- Saces “ Straw- berries”? ACCORDING TO SEASON English hand. But besides this, they are more obstrep- sparrows erous than ever; yet so joyfully obstreperous that I cannot find it in my heart to feel toward them all the antagonism that seems to be con- sidered a mark of patriotism. That they never had been brought over to banish our far more attractive native birds is most heartily to be wished. But as they are with us, by no fault of their own, I find it impossible, especially at this season, to withhold from them a certain amount of sympathy. They are so overflowing with vi- tality, so brimful of plans, such ardent wooers, such eager house-builders. Their superfluous enthusiasm in this matter of house-building is responsible for the unsightly fringes of rope and other materials that decorate the under-eaves of our houses. The amount of energy that they throw into their slightest occupation shames our languid selves. And I frankly admit that I take a keen pleasure in seeing their palpitating little shadows sweep impetuously across the bars of sunlight that lie upon my floor. These seem to bring within the house something of the freedom of out-door life. And to the city-bound lover of nature a pe- culiar satisfaction is yielded by the few objects which help to link his sympathies with his daily experience. That nightly certain stars sent into 36 “ ——==- OO ee ae PLATE V COLTSFOOT Tussilago Farfara 7 my room their far-reaching gaze seems to bring me into closer and more constant touch with the SPRING IN THE CITY ~~ mysterious laws of the universe. These stars, _ too, are the most unfailing of all our season-marks, __ sky-flowers, “ faithful through a thousand years.” The stars which companion me these April nights are not those which glittered in the winter heavens. And by this silent march across my little limited patch of city sky, I am enabled to note the passage of the year more accurately than by any other of those indications which we, with city lives but country loves, look and long for each spring. 37 Sky-flow- ers EN ee MEA Costly! ie ba Teed Wh Ay My w i ’ A SPRING HOLIDAY I, country-born an’ bred, know where to find Some blooms thet make the season suit the mind, An’ seem to metch the doubtin’ blue-bird’s notes,— Half-vent’rin’ liverworts in furry coats, Bloodroots, whose rolled-up leaves ef you oncurl, Each on ’em’s cradle to a baby-pearl,— But these are jes’ Spring’s pickets; sure ez sin, The rebble frosts ’Il try to drive ’em in; For half our May’s so awfully like May’nt, *T would rile a Shaker or an evrige saint; — Though I own up I like our back’ard springs ta Thet kind o’ haggle with their greens an’ things, __ An’ when you ’most give up, ’ithout more words Toss the fields full o’ blossoms, leaves, an’ birds. Vv A SPRING HOLIDAY The countryman can hardly know the heart- swell and the pulse-throb which comes to the city- _ prisoned man or woman who breaks bounds after months of abstinence and feasts on the first evi- dences of returning life in the woods and fields. Spring glides gradually into the farmer’s con- sciousness, but on us city people it bursts with all the relish of a sudden surprise, compensating for ~ much of what we lose. One day last week we resolved to break away from work and take a brief, unexpected vacation. So, early the next morning, breathless but happy, we watched the city blocks becoming more and more diluted, first with sordid vacant spaces, re- ceptacles for nameless rubbish, attesting man’s tendency to acquisitiveness and his depraved liking for embalmed vegetables and refreshments abhorred of teetotalers, then with incipient gar- dens, restoring one’s lost faith in humanity, and finally with miniature farms, gradually blending into actual fields bounded by gray hill-sides. 4! A sudden surprise Fields and hill-sides A late winter Town eyes ACCORDING TO SEASON Spring is really behind time this year. And when one is behind time himself, this accommoda- tion of the season fills him with satisfaction. At times on this particular morning the woods looked so bare and lifeless that it seemed as though winter were trying to lap over into May. The ground in places was thickly matted with dead leaves, while here and there, in a depression in the woods or on the sides of the hills, lay a sar of dirty snow. But part of this wintry aspect was due to town eyes, used to the crude masses and sharp outlines of city buildings. Soon the woods were seen to be blurred faintly as though looked at through a mist. We noticed that the outlines of many of the branches were broken, in most cases by in- numerable clusters of tiny flowers, these usually without the more vivid coloring of later blossoms. The flowers of the swamp-maple formed an excep- tion to this rule. This tree fringed the woods with the vivid scarlet of its myriad blossoms, and lightened the low-lying swamps almost as its dying leaves lighten them in October. Another exception was seen in the flowers of the male willows, which sent out stamens heavy with yel- low pollen that turned the catkins into golden tassels, and made these willows conspicuous in the swamps and along the streams. 42 PLATE Vi WAKE ROBIN Trillium erectun A SPRING HOLIDAY The elms along the railway were not yet in leaf, _ but looked as though wreathed in a coppery mist _ —an effect due to the minute blossoms which ap- _ pear before the leaves put out. The sugar-maples _ were bursting into leaf and flower simultaneously. _ Some weeks ago the birches hung out their yellow ; catkins, and now their branches were blurred with delicate foliage. This was especially noticeable _ with the white birches, clustering erect and slim ~ on the mountain-sides. The oaks, still hung with the leathery leaves of last year, the hickories, chestnuts, and, indeed, most of the trees we could identify, showed few signs of coming summer. But their dull grays and browns blended with the misty greens, reds, and yellows of maple, birch, and willow, forming a landscape full of tender beauty. We passed fields velvety with the “unnamed green” of new-sprung winter rye; then skirted the base of a hill-side red with upturned soil, whose fresh, earthy scent seemed almost to reach us through the smeared window-panes. We watched, touched by envy born of inexperience, the farmer guiding his plough in the pale sunlight with the skill that makes the hardest work look easy. Across another fresh-ploughed field strode a sower, strong and sinewy, with swinging, easy motion; and we wondered if the brown, solitary 43 Blossom- ing trees Oak-leaves The sower Liverwort Foliage plants Brooks ACCORDING TO SEASON figure against the hazy background would have seemed equally full of poetry and suggestion had we never seen Millet’s painting. We flashed by a bank recently burned over, so that no shrubs or débris obscured its fresh growth. From the black slope, star-like, gem-like, distinct and symmetrical, sprang the delicate flowers of the liverwort, recalling vividly one of the Fra Angelico foregrounds. We crossed a swamp where bright marsh-mari- golds huddled together on little islands. In the woods beyond, the huge leaves of the skunk-cab- bage made patches of bright green. Asa native foliage-plant the skunk-cabbage is surpassed only by the false hellebore, whose fresh-looking many- plaited leaves were just unfolding in these same woods. One of the most satisfying features of the ride was the constant companionship of brooks big and little, brooks that ran full and swift, with the repletion of melting snows and the sparkle of a spring morning. Watching these brooks, the old trite expressions forced themselves into one’s mind—“ unlocked,” “unbound,” “ laughing,” “ bab- bling,” “chattering.” From time immemorial man has loved these overflowing brooks, and has tried, not altogether without success, to interpret their inevitable charm. 44 tL cat noe pS A SPRING HOLIDAY —_—_—_ The day was still young when we reached the town where we were to mount our wheels and cross the intervening hills to the inn which was our destination. As we sped down the long white Joy of mo- road the last remnant of care slipped from us and we abandoned ourselves completely to the pure joy of swift motion and bounding blood. I say completely, but I am wrong, for, even when coast- ing down a hill, the sliding, misty, sun-bathed landscape is part of one’s consciousness; and so are the shrill-voiced frogs, the lisping, uncertain birds, and the butterflies that chase each other into the sky for the mere fun of the thing. And when we were not coasting down a hill, but pursuing a fairly moderate pace along a level road, we noted even the details of the wayside, | contrasting the silver-green catkins of the fertile willows with the golden tassels of the sterile, ex- ulting in the glossy green limbs of the speckled alder, guessing at the circumference of the great elm which marks a turn in the road, sympathizing with the yellow-haired children who had brought out into the sunlight their tailless wooden horses and their ragged dolls, for joy of the perfect morning. Then came a hill too steep to climb save on foot, affording a chance to peer over the stone wall and wonder why this part of the world was so back- 45 tion Wayside details Rest A fresh start ACCORDING TO SEASON ward, and if all the flowers were left behind on the cinder-bank. Another ride on a fine level path, beneath shadowy, blue-green pines, and another climb, this time without dismounting. Then a rest (and, unless you have forced your bicycle up a hill under the morning sun, you don’t know the meaning of that word) beneath a blossoming elm, seeking the shadow of its trunk, for the leafless branches gave little protection, staring lazily into the swamp beneath, bright with its willows and maples, and at the dim mountains beyond. So finally we reach our destination, with excellent appetites for an excellent dinner, and a strong tendency afterward to loaf indefinitely about the pretty village. But at last we summoned the energy necessary for a fresh start, on foot this time, for some neigh- boring woods. The road led through a pine- grove, then by a grassy opening, beyond which, on a rocky slope beneath deciduous trees which let down great squares of sunlight, grew the starry, white-petaled, yellow-centred flowers of the bloodroot, each one partially encircled by its pale, protecting leaf. It was some time before we could take our fill of these snowy beauties. One had to get fairly down on the ground to appre- ciate their delicate perfection, for their whole ethereal aspect forbids handling. 46 ROUND-LEAVED VIOLET Viola rotundifolia PLATE VII A SPRING HOLIDAY Lh _ Now the floor of the forest became matted with d ad leaves. It was only by keeping close watch of every glimpse of green that, within two min- utes after leaving the bloodroot behind us, we dis- covered the thick, somewhat rusty leaves, and the flowers, wax-like and spicily fragrant, of the trail- ing arbutus. Within a limited area the plant 2g rew abundantly, its blossoms, now pure white, again delicately pink, sometimes exposing them- selves freely to the sunlight, and seeming to give out their fragrance the more generously for its warmth, but oftener hiding beneath the dead, fallen leaves. I denied myself the pleasure of picking more than one or two sprays of these flowers, singularly tempting though they were, so _ fearful am I of the extermination of this plant, the _ especial pride, perhaps, of our spring woods, and _the peculiar object of the cupidity of ruthless _ flower-pickers. _ Beyond the haunt of the arbutus, springing from a ledge which overlooked a valley lovely in the _ greens and grays of the early year, we found the | y white, slender-petaled flowers of the shad-bush. Here, too, were young, silky fronds of that interesting little fern, the rusty woodsia. And _ here we flung ourselves on the dry, fragrant _ Ppine-needles, and listened to the wind blowing _ through the pines overhead and across the tree- 47 Bloodroot and ar- butus Looking and listen- ing Winter berries Crinkle- root Showy orchis ACCORDING TO SEASON tops below, and forgot that holidays ever came to an end. Now the road climbed a hill where the trees, | other than the evergreens, became more and more ~ leafless and flowerless, and where the young plants dwindled into earliest infancy, showing little more than tiny spears of green. The white-veined par- tridge-vine, thickly studded with bright berries, and the little wintergreen, whose hanging red balls are flavored with so delicious an essence of — the woods, did their best to cover the deficiency of other undergrowth, climbing over the roots of trees and*carpeting the forest hollows with cheer- — ful persistency. But when we descended toward the valley beyond, close to a little stream that trickled down the hill-side, we found the crinkle- root quite full grown, its three-divided leaves large and fresh, and its white, cress-like flowers almost expanded. Wedug upa bit of its fleshy wood- stock and nibbled it from time to time, fancying that its pungent woodland flavor added a new rel- ish to our holiday. Still more interesting was the discovery of the showy orchis, even though the flower-spike, push- ing up between two great oblong shining leaves, needed a few more warm days for its unfolding. This is a quaint, somewhat rare little plant, very charming when its clustered pink-and-white flow- 48 A SPRING HOLIDAY ers are in full bloom. Then, too, it is generally acknowledged to be the first orchid of the year to flower, a fact which entitles it to special consider- ation. Close to the plants of the showy orchis grew the rattlesnake fern (Botrychium Virginianum) in various stages of development. Sotrychium is not a true fern, and consequently its young frond does not curl upin conventional “ fiddle-head ” fashion, but folds over the fertile portion, which is also “doubled up” in the bud. In its immediate neighborhood, however, there was no lack of “fiddle-heads.” The interrupted fern and the cinnamon fern had just come up “fist first,” and could easily be identified by their juicy, vigorous appearance, and by their soft wrappings of white or brownish wool. In sunny, sheltered spots they had thrown aside their wraps, and were erecting, gracefully enough, their slender, pale-green fronds. Many other species, less warmly clothed, yet chiefly distinguishable by the brown or black or whitish scales of the young fronds, were shooting up on every side, now curled into the smallest possible compass, watch-spring fashion, and now almost erect, though still noticeable for a certain scrawny youthfulness of aspect. But the day was waning, and we were obliged to leave further explorations 49 “ Fiddle- heads”’ Yellow violets Coltsfoot A wet rock ACCORDING TO SEASON till the next morning if we hoped for any tea that night. The next day dawned bright and clear. We mounted our wheels, and made our destination some woods of quite a different character from those we had visited the day before. They were low-lying and, in places, swampy. Before leay- ing the open we visited the banks of a tiny brook, whose green, inviting shores suggested pleasant possibilities. Here we found our first violets—little yellow ones, the so-called “downy” species, growing in fresh clumps. Near by, on erect, leafless stems, looking like a dandelion with its heart plucked out, we discovered the coltsfoot, otherwise the “ coughwort,” “ clay-weed,” “horse- foot,” and “hoofs.” This being the first time I had ever found this plant in flower, the occasion was memorable. A wet, mossy rock looked as though it might harbor any number of plant-waifs. Picking my way along the slippery banks, I shouted with joy — on seeing, lovely, fresh, and dainty, springing airily from the flattened top, the first liverworts we had found since leaving the train the previous morning. Inthe chinks of this same rock were soft young clusters of the fragile bladder-fern, still immature, but exquisitely green and promising. On the farther side of the rock grew that odd- 50 a ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ne ees PLATE VIII RARE FORM OF THE COMMON BLUE VIOLET Viola cucullata var. palmata A SPRING HOLIDAY looking plant, the blue cohosh, sometimes called “ pappoose-root,”’ with smooth, purplish stem, pur- ple, divided leaves, and clusters of purple flowers. Close to this plant was a leafless shrub with in- significant yellow blossoms, and bark so tough that it was almost impossible to break off a branch. This proved to be the “leatherwood ” used by the Indians for thongs. It is also known as “ moosewood ” and “swampwood.” Once more on our wheels along the winding road and we were in the woods again. In the spring woods the sun filters everywhere through the leafless branches, and nowhere did it meet lovelier upturned flower-faces than here, where myriad, many-hued blossoms of the liverwort ex- panded beneath its rays. Never before had I seen this flower so abundant and so perfect—pure white, pale lavender, deep violet, or pink of the most delicate shade. I abandoned my _ usual principle of leaving flowers as I find them, and I gathered them recklessly, with exultant, extrava- gant joy, seeking every little variety of shade, se- lecting the largest and most complete specimens, fairly gloating over their perfection of delicate beauty. Though the individual flowers of the liverwort are hardly fragrant, a faint and delicious odor came from the great bunch which finally I held. 51 In the woods Adder’ s- tongue and bellwort Saxifrage The best for the last ACCORDING TO SEASON While hunting these beauties I stumbled overa patch of yellow adder’s-tongue, its delicate lily- like flowers nodding between the smooth, mottled leaves. Already I had found patches of these leaves, but nowhere else the plant in blossom. Close by, the little bellwort hung out its pale, straw-colored blossom. During a drive over the mountain in the after- noon we noticed the white flowers of the saxi- frage bursting from almost invisible crevices in the rocks in its usual sturdy, attractive fashion. Many of the plants were so young that the flower- cluster, pinkish in bud, was still sunk deep in the rosette of leaves. At breakfast the next morning there was a noticeable tendency to the “blues,” indicating that our holiday was nearly over. But once a-wheel in the crisp morning air the joy of living came back with unabated strength, and, as our course lay mostly down hill, the ride was pecul- iarly invigorating. Now, too, our holiday did as a well-behaved holiday should, keeping the best for the last. We had allowed more time than necessary for this ride, that we might explore a tempting piece of woods close to the town where we were to take the train. Nothing that we had seen since leaving home equalled those woods. First the usual mat of dead leaves, then liverwort 52 A SPRING HOLIDAY _ and yellow adder’s-tongue in the sunny spaces, _ then great bowlders with lovely little forest gar- _ dens on their flat surfaces; the young woolly leaves of the wild ginger, its bell-like, red-brown, shamefaced flower actually pretty in its fresh- ness; great groups of wake-robin with gay pur- 4 ple-red blossoms catching the sunlight ; tiny bell- worts, and the bursting, purplish blossoms and delicate foliage, suggestive of maidenhair, of the early meadow-rue. Still farther in were receding cliffs with moss-grown shelves harboring feathery tufts of bladder-fern, and—their crowning glory —great soft masses of the finely cut leaves of the squirrel-corn, with here and there a spike of pale-pink, heart-shaped flowers. The moments flew, and the hour when we must meet our train was perilously near. With one long look we left our beautiful woods, remounted our wheels, and resolved to live the week through on fragrant memories. 53 Forest gardens The word hangs gitering in starstown space, - Fresh as a jewel found but yesterday. _ VI MAY NOTES As our seasons vary from year to year, a fair degree of latitude must be granted anyone who attempts to classify either flowers or birds “ ac- cording to season.” But usually the same flowers are contemporaneous. When | find the liverwort in blossom, I begin to look for the bloodroot and the adder’s tongue. In some sunny hollow the delicate pink-tinged and striped stars of the spring beauty are almost expanded. And before many days have passed the tremulous blossoms of the two anemones will quiver with the least breath of wind, as they nestle among the great roots of the forest trees. In my neighborhood the columbine blossoms occasionally before the end of April, yet it may fairly be considered a May flower. In favorable exposures it appears early in the month, while on the hills it is hardly in its prime till the latter part. Its pendant blossoms, with protruding yellow sta- mens, and curved, spur-like petals, red without and yellow within, showing vividly against their 57 Varying seasons Columbine Yellow violets Common blue violet ACCORDING TO SEASON soft background of delicate foliage, are associated with the pale young leaves, just beginning to ex- pand, of neighboring maples and birches. To this period belongs the downy yellow violet, a flower which seems almost a part of the sunshine that filters plentifully into the depths of the thick- est woods these May days. Yet I doubt if the downy yellow is the first of its tribe to blossom. The flowers of the round-leaved violet, another yellow species, are among the early arrivals, and I suspect that they antedate their congeners. The books assign both alike to “ April-May.” But I have found the flowers of the round-leaved fading while those of the downy were still erect and fresh. 3 The round-leaved is something of a recluse. It likes to withdraw itself to unfrequented woods. In its leaves lie its greatest individuality. These heart-shaped leaves are not especially conspicuous when the plant is in flower. But later in the year they broaden by two or three inches, lying flat on the ground, and presenting a shining surface which readily attracts the eye. The two yellow species are followed closely by the common blue violet. In the manner of its growth, the shape of its leaves, and the color of its flowers, this little plant shows a tendency to whims. It might readily be taken for half a dozen 58 PLATE IX a | ae ~~ Oe mn, Ve ag; —S 3 Me weay ee) One