XXXIV 



IN OCTOBER 



THERE'S no month like October! The magical 

 blue haze of autumn casts a spell over the country 

 landscape. From my house door I can see the 

 woods that form the narrow border of Clear Brook. 

 Dark beckoning hemlocks and whispering white 

 pines invite one to wander. Flaming scarlet maples, 

 like pillars of fire, light the way through the aisles 

 of oaks and chestnuts down to the brookside. 

 Once there the brook will take care of you. One 

 can not go far out of the way following Clear 

 Brook. The air is full * of silken threads laced 

 across the path by ballooning spiders. They seem 



to belong natur- 

 ally with the blue 

 sky, the ripening 

 nuts, the ruddy 

 leaves and all the 

 rest of October. 



In the edge of 



the woods stands a precious 

 clump of witch-hazel. As 

 you look up through the naked 

 branches you become conscious of 

 a halo enveloping the tall bush. 

 Or can it be a reflection from the giant hickory 

 yonder, whose mellow splendor, as with a Midas' 



(188) 



THE WITCH- 

 HAZEL PRESENTS 

 MANY SURPRISES 



