A Farewell 11 Hike" 



counted dawns and sunsets of the, 

 passing years. Through the tree tops 

 a glimpse of sky, part blue, part gray, 

 and all around the soft rich tints of 

 woodland tapestries woven in colors 

 only found in Nature's northern arbo- 

 real laboratories. The intangible grad- 

 ations from green to brown, rose-pink 

 to richest crimson, from pale lemon to 

 deep orange, defy definition or inter- 

 pretation. And tomorrow other tints 

 will show. 



As I now return to the cottage walk, 

 a squirrel frisks by on his way to the 

 big trees in the grove. Acorns have 

 been falling fast for many days upon 

 the lawn. One of our trees in par- 

 ticular seems to have produced this 

 year most bountifully. And today we 

 made a great discovery. Just opposite 

 our bed-room window we had long 

 ago fastened a little so-called "wren- 

 house" to one of the biggest burr-oak 

 limbs. For some reason or other the 

 birds had never used it. I imagine 



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