258 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



dark and light barks are distinct, and each asks 

 for consideration based on its own merits, and 

 not as an humble factor in the production of 

 a general effect. The lichened, mottled gray of 

 oaks suggesting comfort rather than conformity 

 to fashion ; the tight-fitting uniform of the 

 stately beech ; the ragged yellow birch that 

 flaunts its tatters as if proud to wear them ; 

 here, surely, are variety and proud independence 

 worthy of your attention. Here, now, are these 

 trees as we see gatherings of men. They are 

 not bare in the sense of nakedness ; the leaves 

 are gone, but this is simply the doffing of hat 

 and cloak. In winter, in the woods, with snow 

 a foot deep, I can talk to a tree as I would to 

 my neighbor, meeting him at his ease, in-doors. 

 It may seem a childish whim to talk to trees ; 

 literally, it is ; but trees can tell us a great deal ii 

 we will only stop by them for a moment This 

 hollow oak has a nest ol squirrels twenty feet 

 above me, a fact worth knowing, and the tree 

 has this same fact written out upon its trunk. 

 The snow is scattered about, but not by wind, 

 and everywhere is foot-marked in a tell-tale 

 way. This gnarly old sour gum-tree has an 



