September Tramps 



numerable birds, flowers, insects, trees, 

 plants, and four-footed creatures have con 

 fronted us at every step and stimulated curi 

 osity and study. Now the birds have mostly 

 departed, the flowers are a few and sedate 

 company, the insects are frost-killed or 

 driven into retirement, and I for one am 

 tired of particularizing, and am glad to go 

 back for a time to those free, buoyant, 

 youthful impressions of nature as a whole. 

 Instead of pulling to pieces single flowers 

 I want to let my eye range over a whole 

 living field of them, assembled in a carpet 

 of purple and gold. I do not care to ask 

 their names. I simply want them to make 

 an impression of beauty and harmony and 

 joy upon my spirit. I find a distinct relief 

 in not following up every bird-twitter to 

 some thicket to learn what bird is hiding 

 there. The few songs the birds are still 

 singing I will enjoy as psalms of gratitude, 

 not as public exhibitions demanding some 

 sort of analysis and criticism. 



It is because of this larger and freer 



mood that I always look forward to my 



September tramps with special delight. I 



think then is the time when any man or 



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