CLEANING-UP TIME 277 



We had altogether forgotten that window hole 

 in the beech across the lawn, where a branch 

 after having divided comes together again. The 

 time of no-leaves restores it to us like a long- 

 lost friend. The lime, which was beautiful in its 

 leafage of June and in the golden redolence of 

 midsummer blossom, is also very beautiful in the 

 fairylike arches of its winter structure. From far 

 down the trunk it flings up a shaft which bends 

 more and more away from its original aim, taking 

 the parabola of a rocket. The arch ends high in 

 air, and from the descending part of it a new and 

 an airier arch reascends. That beauty you can 

 see over and over again in the lime, but very 

 rarely in any other tree. Every tree, however, 

 shows its own curve compounded of the two 

 elements of aspiration and the force of gravity. 

 The shoot starts out heavenwards for all the light 

 it can get. Its very success bows it down with 

 leaves or fruit. Now that they are gone you can 

 see the shoots trying to straighten themselves for 

 the heavenward flight again, but none of them 

 can get out all the kinks of prosperity. If we 

 would take the trouble to read such small print, 

 we could read the history of the good and bad 

 summers from the spiral of any stick that was 

 several summers long. We might be able to read 

 in the old trees the history of wonderful summers 

 like 1821 and 1848. 



The wind is blowing the last of summer's leaves 

 from the hedge, and many mysteries have come 



