Many times I have come out of the subdued 

 light of the pathless forest to enjoy these sunny 

 openings. Often I have stood within them 

 watching the butterflies circling in the sun or a 

 deer and her fawns feeding quietly across, and, 

 as I looked, I have listened to the scolding of 

 the squirrel and the mellow ringing of the wood- 

 pecker far away in the forest. Here I have 

 watched the coming storm, have enjoyed its 

 presence, and in its breaking have seen the bril- 

 liant bow rest its foundations in front of the 

 trees just across the meadow. Sometimes the 

 moon showed its soft bow in the edge of the 

 advancing or the breaking storm. 



One evening, before the moon looked into 

 this fairy garden, I watched a dance of crowd- 

 ing fireflies. They were as thick as snowflakes, 

 but all vanished when the moonlight turned the 

 park into fairyland. Rare shadow etchings the 

 tall, short-armed spruces made, as they lay in 

 light along the eastern border of this moon- 

 filled park. A blue tower of shadow stretched 

 from a lone spruce in the open to the forest wall 

 beyond. As the moon rose higher, one of the 



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