BARE HILLS IN MIDWINTER 



that of Labrador, which is our usual por- 

 tion in January. Indeed, from the sunny 

 plain which stretches from the southern 

 base of the rock declivity you can see 

 where even tender and jocund plants once 

 began the climb most jauntily. 



Stalwart yellow gerardias, six feet tall 

 some of them, grow in the rich black 

 mould that makes steps upward through 

 the rock jumble. From August till the 

 frost caught them they scattered sun- 

 shine all along beneath the hickories and 

 chestnuts, maples and white oaks, tipping 

 it out of golden bowls to be shattered 

 into the mists of goldenrod blooms that 

 followed after. These gerardias, though 

 dry and dead, stand now, and will stand 

 despite gales and snow all winter long, 

 boldly lifting brown seed pods aloft, pods 

 that grin in the teeth of bitter gales and 

 send their chaffy seeds floating up the 

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