268 NA T URE-ST UD Y RE VIE W [16 :6— Sept. , 1920 



It is modestly attractive, not all engrossing as is its imperious 

 sister the New England, but quietly, pleasingly alluring. Its 

 flower-heads, pale blue, are many and when met with in a dense 

 mass, as we sometimes see it along the country roadside, it com- 

 mends itself prettily to our interested eyes, and is withal a familiar 

 sight. From its heart-shaped leaf and reddish stem this aster 

 should be readily identified and called by its rather easy-to-remem- 

 ber common name. 



The Aster family has a long blooming period, beginning with 

 the Sharp-leaved Wood Aster and the Spreading Aster in early 

 August and continuing to bloom heavily with sturdy grace up to 

 November when the Michaelmas Daisy {Aster Ericoides) faints 

 before the first snow, and the long active procession has passed. 

 It is during our walks in the autumn woodland that we are pleased 

 and surprised at times to chance upon a small, white aster with a 

 shy nymph-like air and a countenance of spotless charm ; it is our 

 White Wood Aster {Aster corymhosus). Ellen Miller says of this 

 haunter of sylvan ways: It is "perhaps the most daintily finished 

 of the white asters, it is also the most shy, loving shady nooks 

 and lonely places." We feel that Bliss Carmen has this same 

 flower in mind when he wrote : 



"The palish aster in the wood 

 A lyric touch of solitude." 



There is something song-like, — of the nature of a cadence in, the 

 soft undulating sway of these Wood Asters, As we can conceive 

 of a song without words, so in this enchanting blossom with its 

 suggestive, harmoniously graceful lines, we can think of lyric 

 loveliness without the intervention of lilting voice or soundng 

 string. I hope that this aster will be one day, sought as ardently 

 as is the violet that comes to gladden May. 



As I stated in the beginning, Autumn is the time that might be 

 called, the season of asters : the days begin to show a marked mood, 

 indicating that something is taking place in the very heart of 

 Nature's own being. Let us note in the words of Henry Ward 

 Beecher, "the spent flowers, the seared leaves, the thinning tree 

 tops, the morning frost, all have borne witness of a change on 

 earth. Summer is gone, winter is coming." The signs of the season 

 are these indeed, the spent flowers are on every side, and true also, 

 the leaves are sere and falling, but look before you on the hillside 

 or below you in the valley and there, belying the signs that mark 



