296 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



At the upper margin of the loose, red earth, that near- 

 est the unsheltered field above, the frost had lifted sand- 

 grains and even pebbles from their beds, and wrought 

 many a winding cave, crystal grotto, and ravine ; but beau- 

 tiful as they were, they smacked of winter, and I turned 

 my back upon them ; for scarcely more than a pace dis- 

 tant, this same red earth was carpeted with pink-fruited 

 lichen, and holding yet against the season's rigor was a 

 forest of sweet-fern. Here rested summer and winter face 

 to face, if not hand in hand. Summer, plucky to the last, 

 and not to be ousted winter, impotent to harm, despite 

 its bluster. 



Such little spots are not uncommon, and interest the 

 more for that so many, like this road-side slope, have a 

 northern outlook, and the temperature, of course, falls 

 very low at times. To-day, when all is gloomily arctic in 

 the fields hard by, here is no hint save that of a genial 

 summer sun, for the sweet-fern although bronzed and 

 brittle has not yet wilted. Recalling the birds and mice 

 that I had found on my way hither, the conditions at the 

 road-side contradicted the general impression as to wild 

 life in winter. It does not always seek the more sheltered 

 places ; for, notwithstanding the northern exposure, this 

 was a sheltered spot; else why such vigorous growths? 

 Lichens, it is true, are unaffected by ordinary winter 

 weather, but besides this, there were other growths that 

 remained green and fresh as ever a plant in June saxi- 

 frage, prince's pine, and Mitchella with its crimson ber- 

 ries. 



But animal life : there should have been an abundance 

 of it, I thought, coursing over such a cheerful scene, but I 

 could find spiders only, and very few of them. Hurry- 

 ing over the ground, they looked quite formidable, and 

 were doubtless indignant at my interference, but far too 

 timid to resent it. 



