THE MAGIC OF THE SEASONS 151 



bountifully Nature has healed the scarred wound, for, as I visit 

 the scene of recent destruction, I find, to my joy, that fresh plants 

 are springing up in every direction, that already there is barely 

 a trace of the charred embers, and that Nature's prodigality 

 is more remarkable than ever. All is now green and Springlike 

 on the patch of earth that was firestricken a few weeks ago. 

 Fleabane, Teasel, Dock, Water Mint, Crowfoot, Violet, Silver 

 Weed, Thistle, Knapweed, Burdock, Ragwort, bunches of Rushes 

 and Grasses, and giant leaves of Cow Parsnip, the latter crowned 

 with large flower-heads, have all brought renewed life and energy. 

 It is difficult to realise that this is really the fire area where, but 

 recently, we battled with the flames, for now it has become a 

 pageant-corner over which the tall Black Poplar does sentry-go, 

 and the Tree Pipit sings sweet music as if in thanksgiving for 

 the new vegetation which has enabled it to frequent the old 

 nesting haunt of bygone years. 



Life, after all, is Nature's most exquisite invention, and death 

 is her expert contrivance to get plenty of life ! 



Near by, the Oaks are in full leaf, and as it is not far from 

 May 29th, I remember the incident in Boscobel Wood in 1651, 

 and look up towards the tree tops to see if the spongy excrescence 

 of the Oak Apple is there. Early in January a small insect 

 crept from her gall-home upon the roots, and ascended the bole 

 of the tree. She bore no wings, and had perforce to climb the 

 dizzy heights. Arriving at a favourable branch, leafless and bare, 

 except for the brown scales protecting the tightly-packed leaves 

 and flowers, she lost no time in depositing her eggs at the ex- 

 tremity of the branch where the buds were most congregated. 

 Then she died, but her mission was fulfilled, and in due season 

 the eggs hatched. When this happened, the Oak was more 

 advanced, and the irritation caused by the presence of parasitic 

 larvae meant a rush of sap to heal the wound, and eventually 

 the appearance of the Oak Apple. If we procure one of these, 

 and cut a section through it, we shall discover several little cells 

 in which a legless grab is secreted. When this grub reaches 

 maturity as the perfect insect, it comes forth, either as winged 

 male, or wingless female. The latter climbs down the trunk up 

 which her mother ascended, bores her way into the ground, finds 

 the roots, punctures some holes in them, and deposits her eggs. 

 Then she dies. These eggs eventually hatch into larvae, round 

 excrescences in the form of galls are formed upon the roots, and 

 from these the wingless female (but no male), about which I 



