MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, 

 No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, 

 No fruits, no flowers, no birds, no leaves, 

 November ! * 



But surely no one within sight or sound of yon- 

 der dainty little optimist could possibly echo the 

 poet's mournful sentiments. Gay-gay-gay sings 

 the friendly, light-hearted chickadee, and, as if in 

 response to his cheery call, several of the little 

 black-capped sprites are already hurrying our way. 

 For them this gray day is filled to overflowing 

 with delight. 



Perhaps leafless trees, more directly than any 

 other autumnal influences, are responsible for im- 

 pressions of sadness at this season. Yet bare 

 boughs have their beauties no less than those in 

 full leaf, and one cannot really make the ac- 

 quaintance of a tree until it has been stripped of 

 its foliage. The beautiful evergreens are con- 

 servatives who guard their secrets jealously. 

 There is ever about them a touch of mystery, of 

 solemnity. But an everyday, intimate acquaint- 

 ance with deciduous trees is possible when nature 

 has laid away their summer wrappings and sent 

 the life-blood to their protected roots. Then 



