WILDWOOD WAYS 



Such a day is fine for cedar swamps. 

 The boggy morasses under foot will be 

 firm with the winter's ice still, but the 

 warm wind has swept all things clear of 

 snow. Into the most tangled depths you 

 may penetrate with at least firm footing. 

 Where in summer the treacherous mosses 

 wait to let you through into black depths 

 of soft muck that have no bottom, you 

 may walk in safety on the way that the 

 winter has laid for you. 



It is not a time of year to find new 

 things, this season of mid-February, and 

 yet I had hardly faced the bewildering 

 sun a mile before, seeking the cool depths 

 of a hemlock-clad northern hillside to rest 

 my eyes from the glare, I found a yellow 

 birch all hung with fluffy tassels, as if 

 the wine aroma of the air had fooled it 

 into foliage. Now the yellow birch is not 

 exactly rare in our woods, here south- 

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