WINTEE SUNSHINE 7 



laid open by a road or a clearing, — how curious they 

 look, and as if surprised in undress! Next year 

 they will begin to shoot out branches and make 

 themselves a screen. Or the farm scenes, — the 

 winter barnyards littered with husks and straw, the 

 rough-coated horses, the cattle sunning themselves 

 or walking down to the spring to drink, the domes- 

 tic fowls moving about, — there is a touch of sweet, 

 homely life in these things that the winter sun 

 enhances and brings out. Every sign of life is 

 welcome at this season. I love to hear dogs bark, 

 hens cackle, and boys shout; one has no privacy 

 with Nature now, and does not wish to seek her in 

 nooks and hidden ways. She is not at home if he 

 goes there; her house is shut up and her hearth 

 cold; only the sun and sky, and perchance the 

 waters, wear the old look, and to-day we will make 

 love to them, and they shall abundantly return it. 



Even the crows and the buzzards draw the eye 

 fondly. The National Capital is a great' place for 

 buzzards, and I make the remark in no double or 

 allegorical sense either, for the buzzards I mean are 

 black and harmless as doves, though perhaps hardly 

 dovelike in their tastes. My vulture is also a bird 

 of leisure, and sails through the ether on long flex- 

 ible pinions, as if that was the one delight of his 

 life. Some birds have wings, others have "pinions." 

 The buzzard enjoys this latter distinction. There 

 is something in the sound of the word that suggests 

 that easy, dignified, undulatory movement. He 

 does ' not propel himself along by sheer force of 



