THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



make a holiday in nature; it is like the fluttering of 

 ribbons and scarfs; it does not suggest age and decay; 

 it suggests some happy celebration. They seem to 

 augment the sunshine, to diffuse their own color 

 into it, or to give back to it the light they have been 

 so long absorbing. The day itself drops upon the 

 earth like a great golden leaf fallen from the tree 

 of Ygdrasyl. 



II 



It always gives me a little pleasurable emotion 

 when I see in the autumn woods where the downy 

 woodpecker has just been excavating his winter 

 quarters in a dead Hmb or tree-trunk. I am walk- 

 ing along a trail or wood-road when I see something 

 like coarse new sawdust scattered on the ground. 

 I know at once what carpenter has been at work 

 in the trees overhead, and I proceed to scrutinize 

 the trunks and branches. Presently I am sure to de- 

 tect a new round hole about an inch and a half in 

 diameter on the under side of a dead limb, or in a 

 small tree-trunk. This is Downy's cabin, where 

 he expects to spend the winter nights, and a part of 

 the stormy days, too. 



When he excavates it in an upright tree-trunk, he 

 usually chooses a spot beneath a limb ; the limb forms 

 a sort of rude hood, and prevents the rain-water 

 from running down into it. It is a snug and pretty 

 retreat, and a very safe one, I think. I doubt whether 

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