THE CLOCK STRIKES ONE 5 



with their spicy breath ; while the wood-lily opens 

 wide and full, lifting its spotted lips to the sun for 

 his scorching kiss. See it glow ! Should the withered 

 thicket burst suddenly into a blaze, it would be no 

 wonder, so hot and fiery seem the petals of this 

 flower of the sun. 



How unlike the tender, delicate fragrant flowers 

 of spring are these strong flowers of the coming 

 fall ! They make a high bank along the stream — 

 milkweed, boneset, peppermint, turtle-head, joe-pye- 

 weed, jewel-weed, smartweed, and budding golden- 

 rod ! Life has grown lusty and lazy and rank. 



But life has to grow lusty and rank, for the winter 

 is coming ; and as the woodchucks are eating and 

 eating, enough to last them until spring comes again, 

 so the plants are storing fat in their tap-roots, and 

 ripening millions of seeds, to carry them safely 

 through the long dead months of winter. 



The autumn is the great planting time out of 

 doors. Every autumn wind is a sower going forth to 

 sow. And he must have seeds and to spare — seeds 

 for the waysides for the winter birds to eat, seeds for 

 the stony places where there is no depth of soil for 

 them, seeds for the ploughed fields where they are not 

 allowed to grow, seeds for every nook and corner, in 

 order that somewhere each plant may find a place 

 to live, and so continue its kind from year to year. 



Look at the seeds of the boneset, joe-pye-weed, 

 milkweed, and goldenrod ! Seeds with wings and 



