the time to plant corn.
The blossoms of the berry bushes are no more flower-like than the
young leaves among which they grow. The green-yellow of barberry
blooms is not more fervent than the yellow-green of the tender
foliage, and the two colors blend into one burning bush of cool
flame. I do not wonder the summer yellow-bird loves to build his
nest in the barberry bush. Its colors at this season are his own.

Other surprises meet men in the pasture this spring. There is a
particularly beautiful corner which many city people have come to
share with me. On holidays and Sundays they troop to their
bungalow on the pond shore by the hundred. Yet they must love
barberry bushes and sweetfern, red cedar and white pine, as I do,
for they have not intruded upon them, but have let their own
presence slip quietly into the vacant places, leaving the original
proprietors of the spot unvexed. In this I see a new variety of
city man and woman growing up. A score of years ago the advent of
such a horde would have meant more disaster than the winter's ice
storms could have wrought. Between these more kindly adventurers
and the pasture folk have grown up a friendly intimacy which is
beginning to teach city ways to the pasture denizens. Therein lies
the cause of my surprise. Under the soft mists of a cool May day I
brushed the dew from the wood grasses and unrolling croziers of
cinnamon fern to pause in admiration at shrubs and trees bearing
calling cards. Here is a red cedar announcing on a Dennison tag,
"I am Juniperus virginiana, known to my intimates as savin." Out
of its nimbus of pale yellow flame "Berberis vulgaris" hands me a
bit of pasteboard, and dangling from a resinous bough is the
statement that it is "Pinus strobus" that welcomes me to fragrant
shade. Like many city manners which are new to country folk these
seem to be a bit obtrusive at first. Yet on second thought I find
it an excellent custom which ought to be enlarged upon in various
ways. I can fancy people coming to the bungalow for a day's
intercourse with the pasture shrubs that have never before met
them, and feeling awkward and disconcerted at not being able to
recall names after a wholesale introduction. I have felt that way
myself after undergoing a rapid-fire presentation to a room full
of people. If, like the pasture shrubs in this particular corner
of the pasture world, all these could have worn a name and address
on coat-lapel or corsage, I had come up to