THE BEECH WOODS 



Each season had its changing moods 

 and its variable nights. The hope of 

 Spring or the bloom of Summer cannot 

 approach the Autumn Night of rare 

 aromas and enchanting moonlight. The 

 woods were wrapped in calm repose, 

 yet seemed to pulsate in the soft flood 

 that bathed) all objects and hung above 

 the far horizon like a bridal veil. From 

 the new-sown wheat fields the scent of 

 burning pine came floating through the 

 air, and the glow of burning stumps 

 marked the border of the new-ground. 

 On these nights the quavering voice of 

 the little owl echoed across the fields 

 and was answered in the neighbouring 

 woods by another plaintive call. All 

 through the hours of shimmering light 

 these soft voices answered back and 

 forth, adding a magic touch to the 

 romantic Night. 



Later in the season of falling leaves 

 the rains came and flooded the creek 

 and the raccoon came down to search 

 for frogs in the pools and shallows. In 

 years gone by these furred creatures 

 were plentiful in the Beech Woods, and 

 in those days of the mu/ ie-loader the 

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