OCTOBER WILD FLOWERS. 



These are the days when the birds come back 

 A very few, a bird or two, 

 And take a backward look. 



— Emily Dickinson. 



October the golden month is here. Na- 

 ture makes a last supreme effort at being 

 gay and succeeds, for never were the 

 fields and woods and marshes so bright 

 with color as now. 



October holds to the last part of the 

 year the same relation that June does to 

 the first. Both produce perfect days, 

 alike yet different. In both a sort of 

 golden haze permeates the air, and both 

 may well be called flower-months. June's 

 flowers are painted with a light touch, 

 but in October Nature lays the colors on 

 strongly. Both are noted for their 

 breezes, June for its gentle perfumed 

 zephyrs, October for its easy, sportive 

 winds, redolent with woodland odors. 



The waters of the brooks and rills have 

 lost their warmth and their touch fore- 

 shadows December ; but if their waters 

 are cold, not so their banks. Stunted 

 willows with dark green leaves shade 

 them and here and there a maple in its 

 autumn garb reflects its scarlet in the 

 water. 



Near the water's edge grow sunflow- 

 ers and burr marigolds, both bright yel- 

 low. But the ideal autumn garden is 

 found along some shady country road, 

 for there bloom our most conspicuous 

 autumn flowers. Our national flower, 

 the goldenrod, is represented by several 

 species. The lance-leaved variety would 

 never be taken for one of the family as 

 most of our species flower on long, slen- 

 der stems. The scented goldenrod is 

 found beneath trees with interlaced 

 boughs, high and dry. Its faint odor, 

 like caraway seed, delights the sense of 

 smell, as its flowers do that of sight. 



Asters are found here and there on 

 the roads, but their true home is in shady, 

 slightly damp woods where they bloom by 

 the thousand. Their purple and blue 

 contribute not a little to the gorgeous 

 whole of October. 



In places where the earth is rich with 

 the leaf-mold of many winters, the snake- 

 root and ironweed bloom. 



Many other flowers blossom now, but 

 these are mostly inconspicuous. To this 

 group belong the beggar's-lice and ticks. 

 They are truly modest and as 'umble as 

 Uriah Heep himself. We would never 

 suspect their presence were it not for the 

 fact that they have grown very close to 

 us — in a literal sense. For during our 

 ramble, they have covered our clothes 

 and we must needs sit down and pick 

 them off. Then their purpose is achieved 

 for we have disseminated their seeds in 

 all directions. 



The hog peanut, which is much more 

 elegant than its name, frequents low 

 places and clambers over strong weeds 

 which are likely to give it support. The 

 wild bean haunts the same localities as 

 the hog peanut. 



Last but not least, comes the fringed 

 gentian which is found in marshy spots. 



Bryant is somewhat wrong when he 

 declares of it — 



Thou waitest late and comest alone 



When woods are bare and birds are flown, 



for it is by no' means alone, and as any 

 wood lover can witness, the woods are 

 not yet bare. 



The birds are not all flown, though 

 many are flying away. Nearly, if not 

 all, the warblers have passed, and the 

 majority of the goldfinches are now at the 

 gulf. The robins, bluebirds and thrushes 

 will soon go, though a few will winter 

 here. Chicadees and other northern birds 

 will soon arrive for the winter. None 

 of the birds are in song ; the only sounds 

 that break the silence of the forest are 

 unmelodious chips, while now and then 



"the querulous cricket grieves 

 And shrilling locust weaves 

 A song of Summer dead. ,, 



For summer is dead and autumn is 



here ; to this 



"ranks of seeds their witness bear, 

 And softly through the altered air 

 Hurries a timid leaf." 



W. R. Murphy. 



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