THE MARCH WOODS. 21 
here and there patches of dark evergreen pines or 
spruces, while distance casts a faint purple mantle over 
the more remote hills which bound the horizon on every 
side. But it will not be long before the brown fades 
slowly and almost imperceptibly into the green of the 
later spring. 
How bravely these withered stems of golden-rods 
by the roadside have withstood the wintry blasts! See 
the seeds fly now as we lightly brush past them, yield- 
ing to a slight touch what they have refused to old 
Boreas with all his bluster. By and by under the gentle 
influence of sun and moisture, they will bend to the 
ground, ‘‘to be resolved to earth again, to mix forever 
with the elements,” to pass through new cycles of being. 
It is only a repetition of the old fable of the struggle 
between the sun and the wind for the traveler's cloak. 
As we follow the path into the woods the snow is 
found lying at considerable depth, in marked contrast 
with the bare hill-top from which we have descended, 
but here and there are open spaces where we can get a 
glimpse of mother earth in her wild haunts once more. 
Our old friend, the mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia, 
L.), looks hardly as sleek and glossy as when we bade 
him good-bye for the winter. But no wonder. Let us 
be thankful he has come out of it so well, and has in 
him so large a promise of beauty in the leafy month of 
June. We shall watch him with interest, soon putting 
