Trees, Shrubs and Vines 
skies kiss the earth, the larches are sprinkled full of buds 
of rarest green ; the honey-locust spreads a semi-trans- 
parent feathery canopy above your head that in clear 
May-light becomes a perfect dream of emerald; the 
large-toothed aspen now gives the illusion of a leafless 
tree in full white bloom ; for each small leaf, like a cra- 
dled child of luxury, is deep buried in soft wool. Soon 
the white oak’s opening buds almost rival the arbutus’s 
delicacy of pink and white, and the weeping willow is 
wrapped in a sheen of gold. Wonderful are the in- 
numerable artist-touches in the scenes that usher in the 
year. But one must be alert to catch the quick-dissolv- 
ing views that make stupendous panoramas of our April 
and May days, scene melting into scene like transient 
dreams, and, ere we realize it, all the peculiar charms 
of spring have disappeared, only to live in memory 
until another year. 
No plant is so plebeian as not to arouse a naturalist’s 
enthusiasm when it can give to his hungry eyes some 
characteristic token of a reviving year that is always to 
be brighter and happier than the last—a fond mistake 
often made, and as often forgotten. No blossoms of all 
the year have quite the aroma and ravishing color of 
the earliest spring flowers; coming when the landscape 
is still drear, yet beautiful with the charm of an open- 
ing year, they are spiced with that best flavor of all 
happiness—expectancy. 
In the same category as the fox sparrow, that warbles 
his rich, plaintive song in leafless trees, the trillium, that 
sends up fair white petals out of oozy ground, and all 
such welcome harbingers of spring, is the common lit- 
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