Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



little pool. There are not a dozen drops of open 

 water, but dampness only, yet it is worthy the 

 rambler's closest attention. It means a few 

 ferns, by way of variety, and, though small, 

 they have been pretty and are attractive still. 

 They have a leathery feel, and the vigor of early 

 May has departed, but they are ferns and all 

 that these growths signify. If we truly love a 

 plant, even its picture will command attention. 

 Here are only faded, leathery ferns, but who has 

 yet to learn that beneath a wrinkled skin there 

 is abundance of life? Too pronounced fresh- 

 ness is occasionally open to adverse criticism. 



Given vegetation, moisture and alternate 

 light and shade, animal life without stint will 

 crowd the spot. The dry moss seemed deserted 

 as I looked over it. A lazy spider, shining coal 

 black ants and inert beetles were all that I could 

 find in the way of animal life, but about the 

 ferns and in the moist earth were many and 

 widely varied forms. A frog, a salamander 

 and a baby turtle had gathered here, and a chat- 

 tering blue jay directly overhead seemed to be 

 scolding because I kept it from coming to drink. 

 A less cautious chickadee came quite within my 

 reach and a squirrel scampered by, barking 



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