276 THE RING OF NATURE 



that makes the children gather into a corner, 

 rather enjoying the fun of washing-day in its 

 first stages. The leaves flew from the trees in a 

 tornado of fun. For a time, they were more in 

 the way than ever, scurrying across the country- 

 side, cluttering the roads and paths, drifting 

 into almost unmanageable heaps. Slowly their 

 buoyancy was tamed with a little water. They 

 lost their crinkle, and clung to the ground instead 

 of bounding over it. Then the worms seized them 

 and drew them one by one into their holes, the 

 stuff in them deliquesced and ran into the ground, 

 the earth claimed them for its own. 



The annuals have paid back their brief borrowing 

 in humus for next year's blossoms. The herbaceous 

 parts of the perennials have been hauled down, 

 disintegrated and stowed away. We shall have a 

 sweetly clean slate again for next summer to write 

 her gaieties upon. On those terms, we rejoice at 

 the cleaning-up of autumn. It is a newly revealed 

 delight, uncounted on in summer, to have the 

 trees unsmothered so that we can see the beauties 

 of their inner architecture. The differences of 

 architecture between chestnut and beech, oak and 

 elm can be seen hundreds of yards away more 

 clearly than even when they were covered with 

 leaves. We can see how each branch has fought 

 according to its kind for summer after summer 

 against its fellows, though in a common cause, 

 against the winds and other adversities which were 

 also their inspiration. 



