GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE TREES 



cate tracery of twig and bough stands revealed 

 against winter's frosty sky. The sugar maple 

 has a curious habit of ripening or reddening 

 some of its branches very early, as if it was 

 hanging out a warning signal to the squirrels 

 and the chipmunks to hurry along with their 

 storing of nuts against the winter's need. I re- 

 member being puzzled one August morning as 

 I drove along one of Delaware's flat, flat roads, 

 to know what could possibly have produced 

 the brilliant, blazing scarlet banner that hung 

 across a distant wood as if a dozen red flags 

 were being there displayed. Closer approach 

 disclosed one rakish branch on a sugar maple, 

 all afire with color, while every other leaf on 

 the tree yet held the green of summer. 



Again in the mountains, one late summer, 

 half a lusty sugar maple set up a conflagration 

 which, I was informed, presaged its early 

 death. But the next summer it grew as freely 

 as ever, and retained its sober green until the 

 cool days and nights; just as if the ebullition 

 of the season previous was but a breaking out 

 of extra color life, rather than a suggestion 

 of weakness or death. 



