SUMMER THOUGHTS IN 

 WINTER 



LET him who will declare there Is no color in 

 ■^ winter landscape — that is, in a landscape 

 whitened by snow. I point this man to the Janu- 

 ary scene in a part of our country not generally 

 considered to have beauty; a gently rolling coun- 

 try with here and there a woodlot and sometimes 

 a cedar swamp. And I ask him to look in early 

 morning sunlight at the pale and delicate blue of 

 the sky above these fields and woods; at the rich 

 browns of oak foliage, at the pale tans of the little 

 ghostly beeches, with their leaves which are a 

 reminiscence; at the grays of trunk and bough, 

 and at the bluish shadows cast by these gray draw- 

 ings upon the soft, deep whiteness of the ground. 

 An austerity of beauty lies in the pale, cold winter 

 color seen here; and when by chance the dark 

 mass of a white pine or the pointed tops of cedar 

 groups come into the forefront of the picture, 

 their rich hues are almost too startling for the 

 pallid yet lovely background. 



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