io8 



beautiful leaves, long and lance shaped and softly sil- 

 very gray-green on the undersides. Every breeze sends 

 through it sudden drifts of light, very fair and beau- 

 tiful to watch. But the glory of this willow is in the 

 winter. Then its twigs turn a rich, brassy yellow 

 which you can see afar off. It is the yellow or golden 

 willow, really a variety of the white willow. How 

 lovely is the dull brassy yellow which this tree lifts 

 through the purple-brown maze of bare twigs in 

 winter. It is pronounced, yet so subdued. Its very 

 look is winter and goes with humming ice and bright 

 sunshine, and clean, cold air, and sparkling snow ; 

 with creaking tree trunks and soft violet shadows over 

 the snow ; with that still, winter's quiet which is in- 

 describable in words, but which is so full of a some- 

 thing that stirs way down the innermost soul. 



Beyond the yellow willow, near the Walk a fine white 

 ash lifts up the blazonry of its diamond panelled bark, 

 gloriously rough and rugged, full of vigor, life and 

 hardiness. Sometimes I smite them with my fist, just 

 to feel the firm tingle of their ridges. Off to the 

 right again and near the water, you will meet a good 

 clump of common barberry (Berberis vulgaris) which 

 you will have no difficulty in identifying from its 

 obovate-oblong leaves and abundance of small spines. 

 Try to see barberry in September, when it is hung full 

 of fruit. Its fruit (berries, of oblong shape) is very 

 handsome then, rich cool crimson in color, glowing 

 with autumn. 



Near the Walk again, we meet cucumber tree (Mag- 

 nolia acuminata) and if you look up in its branches 



