92 The Witchery of Winter 



slumbering trees and make the grass green 

 again ; but the cardinal's magic reached me 

 only, and I forgot that it was winter. 



There is a livelier thrill to every pulse- 

 beat when saluted in such hearty fashion. 

 We are of one mind, this cardinal and I, 

 and agree that winter needs to be better un- 

 derstood. Here at my feet is a frozen and 

 forlorn fern, but it is green still, if it no 

 longer waves gracefully as a feather in the 

 passing breeze ; accept it for what it recalls 

 to-day, and be not forever fretful because 

 summer could not stay and protect it. Every 

 crisp, brown leaf that has fallen from the 

 oaks has its own story to tell. Have you 

 listened yet to know how charming it really 

 is? Here among them, too, are acorns in 

 endless numbers, large and small ones ; 

 brown, green, and mottled ones. Here, 

 where squirrels have been feasting in the 

 cheerful warmth of winter sunshine, I, too, 

 can find comfort, even playing with acorn- 

 cups for an hour, and so again a child. 

 There is no cause for discontent in a winter 

 that merely sports with the tip of your nose 

 or stiffens your ears. Are you going to 

 retreat at such an assault, and, showing a 



