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road. No, it is made up instead of golden grains from 
the dust boxes that are swaying in the wind on yonder 
trees. And as the trees just now are bare of leaves, 
the journey of the pollen through the air is an easy 
matter. It is carried along by the wind, settling here, 
there, and everywhere, sometimes in our throats and 
noses in such a fashion as to make us sneeze, but also 
on the tops of many little pistils whose seeds cannot 
ripen without its gift of new life. 
And so, although we have not seen the visitor who 
befriends these little flowers that are neither beautiful 
nor fragrant, we have heard his voice as it came whis- 
pering through the pines; and we know that this 
whisper is the gentle voice of the wind. 
Now you understand that it is well for those trees 
whose flowers depend upon the wind for their pollen, 
to blossom before their leaves are out, and thus likely to 
interfere with the pollen in reaching its destination. 
