THROUGH THE FIELDS IN NOVEMBER 



223 



Through the Fields in November. . 



BY CHARLES A. DANN, KINGSBRIDGE, N. Y. 



Since I must go today well into the 

 outskirts of Greenwich, I will follow, 

 with eager choice, a by-path through 

 the fields. The perfection of the after- 

 noon, and the enticements of nature 

 combine to make this half mile easily 

 the most interesting of the day. 



There is evidence on all sides of 

 silent preparation for winter. The 

 only sign that seems to belie this is 

 the carpet of green grass underfoot, 

 where the frosts have not yet issued 

 their edict of repose. Scattered thickly 

 in this covering of green are hundreds 

 of newly opened dandelions, too hardy 

 for winter's skirmish attacks. The 

 deep red decorations on the tops of the 

 leafless sumachs resemble blossoms, 

 but inspection shows that they are the 

 completed fruitage of the long sum- 

 mer. The season of blossoms is over. 

 The day-flowers and the dandelions 

 merely help to emphasize nature's law 

 of rest. , 



Most of the trees are entirely bare 

 of leaves_ Some of the elms seem to 

 have taken special care to unburden 

 every smallest twig. The ailanthus 

 appears to have renounced its twigs 

 with the leaves, so that the younger 

 trees stand branchless, bearing great 

 scars where the leaves have dropped 

 away. A part of the oaks have been 

 equally careful to unburden for the 

 winter, while the rest have chosen to 

 keep a part of their foliage, where, 

 withered and brown, and useless, it 

 will rattle in the gales of winter until 

 jolted away by the swelling buds of 

 spring. Many of the younger trees 

 by the side of the path, the apple and 

 the cherry in particular, still bear a 

 hardy growth of green leaves on the 

 tips of the branches. This is doubtless 

 due to youthful lack of experience with 

 the all-conquering winter. 



Even with the handicap of the rust- 

 ling leaves underfoot, one could expect, 

 upon most days in November, to see or 

 hear a dozen kinds of birds. This day 

 is surely an exception, for with the 

 best attempts, I can locate but three 

 kinds. This dearth cannot be the fault 

 of the day, for conditions are ideal. Nor 

 can it be due entirely to the dullness 

 of these eyes and ears, for it has been 

 their diversion, for many seasons, to 

 wait for these sights and sounds.. Lack 



of time perchance, is the chief diffi- 

 culty for living nature is enticed only 

 by lingering. The three detected are 

 the chickadee, calling softly from some 

 perch overhead ; the nuthatches, 

 harshly protesting, in their busy 

 rounds, at the rustling of the leaves, 

 and the juncos, active all along the 

 path. 



To atone for the lack of birds per- 

 chance, one lone hyla astonishes me as 

 I return past the swamp, at dusk, by 

 calling out cheerfully with the voice of 

 spring. He must know what he is 

 about, at least I will try to take his 

 optimism back to the noise and the 

 pavements. 



Outdoors Better Than Indoors. 



BY SARA II Y. PRUESER, DEFIANCE, OHIO. 



As my eves rest on the various 

 tints and shades so harmoniously 

 blended in the growing leaves that 

 form the walls of the woodland tem- 

 ple above which the blue sky forms 

 an airy canopy, the walls of the place 

 that we call home seem hard and 

 coarse. No atmosphere to soften the 

 hardness, no fine lacework of branches 

 and leaves to make you wonder what 

 they conceal, no hidden places to 

 arouse your interest in the unknown. 

 Much of the decoration within our 

 homes is bold and barbarous and bad. 

 But the awakening is at hand. Al- 

 ready the best decorators and artists 

 are introducing natural effects into 

 their art. The New York Grand Cen- 

 tral Railroad Terminal has a starlit 

 sky for its roof. Art will some day 

 evolve a process by which the place 

 we call home may be transformed into 

 a veritable bit of out-of-doors. 



"When we come into a realization of 

 the fact that no rug from the Orient, 

 be it ever so elegant, can compare with 

 the grassy carpet of wood or field or 

 a woodland pasture luxuriant with the 

 blossoms of springtime or with the 

 ripened leaves of an autumn day, and 

 that no wall tapestry however expen- 

 sive can approach the beauty of the 

 foliaged trees and shrubs, then we 

 shall come into a right appreciation of 

 nature and natural effects. When we 

 come to know how perfectly sane and 

 pure nature is in all her moods, 

 we shall stand appalled at our own 

 baseness and at the distorted notions 

 that we have acquired of what we be- 

 lieve to be right living. 



