THE MAGIC OF THE SEASONS 145 



remains the thirst for knowledge, and constant search for 

 truth. 



It is Summer time now. The whole woodland resounds with 

 the songs of birds, and Nature is at her best. The stern hand 

 of Winter, the halting footsteps of Spring, are all forgotten now 

 that the Hawthorn is wreathed in blossom, and Elder, Dogwood, 

 and Privet scent the morning air. I never remember the Maple 

 so abundantly laden with honeyed flowers, nor, as one might 

 expect, insect visitors so frequent. There is magic in every 

 square yard of territory, and one's observation ground is so un- 

 limited at this season of the year, that one hesitates to go far 

 afield for fear of losing touch with the closer operations of animal 

 and plant life. It seems only yesterday that I noticed the 

 Bryonies, both Black and White, peeping through the respondent 

 earth, and now both plants have ascended towards the light and 

 air, the former by means of twisting its sensitive stems either 

 round one another, or a neighbouring plant, the latter as a result 

 of its tendrils, which form a living spiral. Sometimes, the Black 

 Bryony entwines its new growth around the dead stems of the 

 previous year, and thus secures aid in life through death. 



The Black Bryony has sharp-pointed, heart-shaped leaves, 

 which have a glossy surface. The leaves and flower buds are 

 packed close together in infancy, but, as the snaky head develops, 

 and the stem elongates, the necessary organs separate, and eventu- 

 ally occupy such a position as will, bring light and sustenance 

 through the agency of the leaves. Festooned with coral-red 

 berries in Autumn, the leaves having already withered, Black 

 Bryony brings a rich feast of colour to the place it chooses for 

 a home. 



White Bryony is a pretender, or rather, I should say, its English 

 name is misleading, for it is not a Bryony, but a member of the 

 Cucumber family, the only wild representative we have. Its 

 rough leaves are lobed, instead of shiny and heart-shaped, greyish 

 at first, and very hairy, so as to be protected from late l frosts and 

 the ravages of caterpillars. The berries are red, but they lack 

 the richness of the other species mentioned. In addition, they 

 are round instead of egg-shaped, and do not bear the gloss so 

 characteristic of Tamus communis, which acquires its name of 

 Black Bryony because the rootstock develops large black 

 tubers. 



Both these climbing plants are constant companions of my 

 rambles, and I delight in watching them stealthily improving 



