. The long ago. her disagreeable foreign sub- stance, under a particularly inviting bunch of leaves—then v^^atch and giggle at your discomfiture whenyou came innocently ploughing along! What a riot of wonderful color they made justafter the first frosts had turned their green to redand gold and brown! As a boy I disdained soweak a thing as noticing the coloring on Big Hill—but now, in the long-after years, I realize thatits vivid Autumn garment was indestructibly fixedin my memory and has lived—saved for me untilI could look back through Times long glass andunderstand and love that glorious pi
. The long ago. her disagreeable foreign sub- stance, under a particularly inviting bunch of leaves—then v^^atch and giggle at your discomfiture whenyou came innocently ploughing along! What a riot of wonderful color they made justafter the first frosts had turned their green to redand gold and brown! As a boy I disdained soweak a thing as noticing the coloring on Big Hill—but now, in the long-after years, I realize thatits vivid Autumn garment was indestructibly fixedin my memory and has lived—saved for me untilI could look back through Times long glass andunderstand and love that glorious picture. Not eventhe brush of a Barbizon master could tell the storyof Big Hill, three miles up the river from MainStreet bridge, gleaming in the hues that Jack Frostmixed, beneath the blue-gold dome of a cloudless sky—for it could not paint the chatter of the squirrel,or the glint of the bursting bittersweet berry, or thecall of the crow, or the crisp of the air, or the joyof life that only boyhood knows!. T^Hgy J^ p*
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Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlongago01wri, bookyear1916
