REAL AUTUMN 295 



berries are hanging in long black bunches. At first 

 Little Trudy was going to pick these berries in- 

 stead of the Wild Sunflowers. She thought they 

 were cuddling themselves together and that they 

 were pretty and shiny. At the same time she saw 

 the bushes' tiny white flowers. 



" Very funny," Little Trudy said, for when 

 there is no one near by, she talks to herself, " that 

 wee flowers make big, black berries." 



Then she pulled off a bunch and squeezed them 

 so tightly that her hand and frock looked as if she 

 had spilt an ink bottle. Trudy scowled and left 

 them then for the Wild Sunflowers. Of course 

 she didn't know that long ago the country people 

 used to make their own ink from the juice of Poke- 

 weed berries, nor even that many people now call 

 them Pigeon-berries. 



Pokeweed is a great, strong shrub. It stands up 

 by the fence along the lane, and it is also by the 

 stone wall between the meadows. Its leaves are 

 large, and pointed, and smooth. The smallest 

 things of all about Pokeweed are the flowers. 

 They are white with a pinkish tint, and after they 

 have faded their red stems hold the berries closely 

 together in the bunches. 



I brought a spray of Pokeweed home this morn- 

 ing, but before I got as far as Grandmother's gar- 

 den the leaves and berries and flowers were 

 drooping. 



" That's Pokeweed," Grandmother said. " It's 



