WILD PASTURES 



think you saw the margin in this same 

 screen of bushes, but there are roods of 

 cove beyond and behind them. The 

 shrubs of the pasture love to come down 

 and dabble their feet in the warm pond 

 water and sun themselves in the shel- 

 tered, fragrant air. 



The afternoon sun has more resili- 

 ence here than elsewhere. It bounds 

 with fervent flashes of elasticity from 

 the glossy leaves of the bushes that 

 have waded out farthest and made 

 islands of themselves. The high-bush 

 blueberries are the most daring of all, 

 and stand in the largest clumps 

 farthest out. These, late in May with 

 an offshore wind, shower the whole 

 surface of the water with their fallen 

 corollas. More than once have I seen 

 the cove white with them on Memorial 

 Day, as if the bushes, standing with 

 50 



