The Open Air 



and in the twilight move across the fields in bands 

 invisible as they sweep near the ground, but seen 

 against the sky in rising over the trees and the 

 hedges. There is a plantation of fir and ash on the 

 slope, and a narrow waggon-way enters it, and seems 

 to lose itself in the wood. Always approach this 

 spot quietly, for whatever is in the wood is sure at 

 some time or other to come to the open space of the 

 track. Wood-pigeons, pheasants, squirrels, magpies, 

 hares, everything feathered or furred, down to the 

 mole, is sure to seek the open way. Butterflies 

 flutter through the copse by it in summer, just as 

 you or I might use the passage between the trees. 

 Towards the evening the partridges may run through 

 to join their friends before roost-time on the ground. 

 Or you may see a covey there now and then, creeping 

 slowly with humped backs, and at a distance not 

 unlike hedgehogs in their motions. The spot there- 

 fore should be approached with care; if it is only 

 a thrush out it is a pleasure to see him at his ease 

 and, as he deems, unobserved. If a bird or animal 

 thinks itself noticed it seldom does much, some will 

 cease singing immediately they are looked at. The 

 day is perceptibly longer already. As the sun goes 

 down, the western sky often takes a lovely green tint 

 in this month, and one stays to look at it, forgetting 

 the dark and miry way homewards. I think the 

 moments when we forget the mire of the world are 

 the most precious. After a while the green corn rises 

 higher out of the rude earth. 



Pure colour almost always gives the idea of fire, or 

 rather it is perhaps as if a light shone through as well 

 as colour itself. The fresh green blade of corn is like 

 this, so pellucid, so clear and pure in its green as to 

 seem to shine with colour. It is not brilliant not a 



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