BUDS ARE UNDERSTUDIES 
leaf that started the twig. So a leaf may cause some¬ 
thing to grow that is much greater than itself. 
One may visit clumps of trees in the autumn after the 
leaves are gone and wonder what sort of flowers and 
leaves they are to bear in the spring. He may take a 
horse-chestnut bud, for instance, open out its tiny folds, 
and unpack a whole cluster of flowers, each, under the 
microscope, quite correct as to proper horse-chestnut 
form. The bud of a tulip tree may be smaller, but it is 
none the less distinct. If it is opened up, a single flower 
will be revealed. If it is examined with a microscope, 
every detail, even the stamens and pistil, will be found 
in place. A careful examination of an oak bud — one 
that is to be a twig, not a flower —will reveal a whole 
cluster of leaves. Even the form of the twig itself has 
begun to show. 
These buds push out in the autumn after the leaves 
have fallen and make quite a showing for themselves. 
All through the winter they stand out boldly on their 
twigs. The thermometer may go down to a point where 
they are frozen hard as bits of ice. If one of them is 
chipped open, the crystal formation may be seen. It is 
frozen hard. But if it is left on the tree, it is unharmed. 
It awaits the coming of spring, when the flow of sap up 
from the roots will bring to it the materials from which it 
can build the structure that is laid out in the sleeping 
buds. Then each tiny leaf that unfolds will, itself, start 
a bud that is to carry on when it is gone. 
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