CHAPTER III: THE FALL OF THE LEAVES 



It is November, and the glory of the woods is departed. 

 Dull browns and purples show where oaks still hold their leaves. 

 Beech trees in sheltered places are still dressed in pale yellow. 

 The elfin flowers of the witch hazel shine like threads of gold 

 against the dull leaves that still cling. The trees lapse into 

 their winter sleep. 



Last week a strange thing happened. The wind tore the 

 red robes from our swamp maples and sassafras and scattered 

 them in tatters over the lawn. But the horse chestnut, decked 

 out in yellow and green, lost scarcely a leaf. Three days later, 

 in the hush of early morning, when there was not a whiflf of a 

 breeze perceptible, the signal, "Let go!" came, and with one 

 accord the leaves of the horse chestnut fell. In an hour the 

 tree stood knee deep in a stack of yellow leaves; the few that 

 still clung had considerable traces of green in them. Gradually 

 these are dropping, and the shining buds remain as a pledge 

 that the summer story just ended will be told again next year. 



Perhaps such a sight is more impressive if one realises the 

 vast importance of the work the leaves of a summer accomplish 

 for the tree before their surrender. 



The shedding of leaves is a habit broad-leaved trees have 

 learned by experience in contact with cold winters. The swamp 

 magnolia is a beautiful evergreen tree in Florida. In Virginia 

 the leaves shrivel, but they cling throughout the season. In 

 New Jersey and north as far as Gloucester, where the tree occurs 

 sparingly, it is frankly deciduous. Certain oaks in the Northern 

 States have a stubborn way of clinging to their dead leaves all 

 winter. Farther south some of these species grow and their 

 leaves do not die in fall, but are practically evergreen, lasting 

 till next year's shoots push them off. The same gradual change 

 in habit is seen as a species is followed up a mountain side. 



The horse chestnut will serve as a type of deciduous trees. 

 Its leaves are large, and they write out, as if in capital letters, 

 the story of the fall of the leaf. It is a serial, whose chapters 



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