The Ragged Month 69 



The fallow ground lay next it, running 

 broadside to it indeed. There was a worm- 

 fence between a line fence, rightly charge- 

 able as much to one field as the other, though 

 Major Baker had kept it up the ten years 

 past. Upon his side, the corners were un- 

 picturesquely clean, but those opposite made 

 up for the fact. They were ablaze with yel- 

 low, and purple and scarlet. Golden-rod, 

 ironweed, early asters, Spanish needles, white 

 sumach grew tall there and rampant higher 

 than a tall man's head. Bents of the barrens 

 grass also as lusty as in the pioneer days, 

 when it covered the whole face of the earth, 

 and could be tied over a horse's neck as a 

 rider threaded it. Occasionally there were 

 sedge clumps, not quite so tall as the grass. 

 Sedge loves the light earth of a hedge-row but 

 cannot live in the thick shade. 



Many other things love it. A fence-row 

 is indeed the chosen haunt of vagrant woody 

 stems. Elder bushes, hazels, wild cherries, 

 wild roses, wild grapes, seedling apples, black- 

 thorns, peach-trees, and selfsown honeysuckles 

 disputed ground in this hedgerow with the 

 legions and cohorts of sassafras and black- 

 berry. Joe loved the sights and sounds and 

 smells of the hedgerow. His plough crept 

 near and nearer it each day. He was glad it 

 had been spared so long partly on his own 



