STALKING THE WILD GRAPE 



the swamp azalea and get a strawberry- 

 musk flavor that is faint but delightful. 



Sniff as you shoulder your way 

 through the high blueberry bushes and 

 you may note that the crushed leaves 

 have a certain vinous odor like one of 

 the flavors of a good salad. The blos- 

 soms of the high-bush blackberry, whose 

 thorns tear your hands, have a faint and 

 endearing smell as of June roses that 

 are so far away that you get just a 

 whiff of them in a dream. The azalea 

 that a month later will make the moist 

 air swoon with sticky sweetness now 

 gives out from its leaves something that 

 reminds you of wild strawberries that 

 you tasted years ago. It is as delicate 

 and as reminiscent as that. 



Under your foot the sweet-fern 

 breathes a resin that is " like pious in- 

 cense from a censer old," the bayberry 

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