hemselves new light green
tips; the dandelion's spheres of ethereal down rise above the
grass: and now and then one of them suddenly goes down: the
little chippy, or social sparrow, has thrown itself upon the
frail stalk and brought it to the ground, to feed upon its
seeds; here it gets the first fruits of the season. The first red
and white clover heads have just opened, the yellow rock-rose
and the sweet viburnum are in bloom; the bird chorus is still
full and animated; the keys of the red maple strew the ground,
and the cotton of the early everlasting drifts upon the air."
For several days there was but little change. "Getting toward
the high tide of summer. The air well warmed up, Nature in her
jocund mood, still, all leaf and sap. The days are idyllic. I lie
on my back on the grass in the shade of the house, and look up
to the soft, slowly moving clouds, and to the chimney swallows
disporting themselves up there in the breezy depths. No hardening
in vegetation yet. The moist, hot, fragrant breath of the
fields--mingled odor of blossoming grasses, clover, daisies,
rye--the locust blossoms, dropping. What a humming about the hives;
what freshness in the shade of every tree; what contentment in the
flocks and herds! The springs are yet full and cold; the shaded
watercourses and pond margins begin to draw one." Go to the top
of the hill on such a morning, say by nine o'clock, and see how
unspeakably fresh and full the world looks. The morning shadows
yet linger everywhere, even in the sunshine; a kind of blue
coolness and freshness, the vapor of dew tinting the air.

Heat and moisture, the father and mother of all that lives, when
June has plenty of these, the increase is sure.

Early in June the rye and wheat heads begin to nod; the
motionless stalks have a reflective, meditative air. A little
while ago, when their heads were empty or filled only with chaff
and sap, how straight up they held them! Now that the grain is
forming, they have a sober, thoughtful look. It is one of the
most pleasing spectacles of June, a field of rye gently shaken by
the wind. How the breezes are defined upon its surface--a surface
as sensitive as that of water; how they trip along, little
breezes and big breezes together! Just as this glaucous green
surface of the rye-field bends beneath the light tread of the
winds, so, we are told, the crust of the earth itself bends
beneath the giant strides of the great atmospheric waves.

There