The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-11-03
WHEN PAWPAWS ARE RIPE.
The Golden Fruit as Found in an In
diana Thicket.

Maurice Thompson, in the Independent.
An alluvial soil. coated with a deep leaf
mold and somewhat silicious. is what the
tree chooses to grow in: and it likes to be
overshadowed. / find the best fruit ma
turing in thick woods of plane, tulip and
maple OH the flatlands close to brook sides
There is damp, rich, musty smell by
which, in the twilight of such forest
you may distinguish the atmosphere dear
to the pawpaw. Here the woodthrush, the
muse of crepuscuar groves, flutes a mel
low strain at intervals and all around
chatter ground squirrels and nuthatches.
On the hillsdes near by the cypripedium
in its season, fiaunts its rose-purple reti-
Guile. There. too. the black haw Viburnum
ientago) ripens its fiat, shining berries of
licorice candy.
Get out your bicycle for a six-mile spin
into the Sugar Creek hills. We will take the
Balhinch road and pedal diligently toward
the Llewellen neighborhood. just this side
of which is Il wood i wot of where clumps
of Asmina triloba dance down a gentle
slope bordering the brook called Indian
creek a few miles from its mouth i'm Sugar.
And what breeze TO whrl through, and
what a road of packed gravel to ay upon.
over the black fields either hand the.
autumn wheat is making a thin wash Of
green and the Indian corn stands i'm con-
cattle wade knee-deep in the third growth
of clover. while flocks of sheep snip the
blue grass.
Yonder is the wood. high barbed wire
fence grds II in with not an outside gate
TO let us through. Well, hang up the
wheels VINE In TINS wayside copse and III show
YOU how TO beat the barbs. Take off your
coat so; hang 1t across the top wire be-
side the post. so; and now shin up the
post and scramble over where the coat
covers the points. 1t is n trite trick, but
fairly good Behold the sign against when
We set our sinful natures: mo trespass-
Ing on this farm" Ii is lettered on a
hoard conspicuously nailed 10 a tree Stol-
en- fruit may be sweet. but i suggest that
we go TO Jon man at work beside a straw
rick and negotiate with him.
Now we are light-hearted. We may take
all we want and welcome. Like two school
boys. away we scamper, and what down
fall of ocorous fruit we find. Long ban
ana-like. brown and yellow, the heavy
custard apples almost cover the ground in
some places. while a Few crowded clusters
| sun hang on the boughs. First We eat
our MI; then we cram our haversacks full
of the choicest specimens. All the way
PACK nome we are fragrant and happy
| We nave realized our autumn dream.
| may De crude of taste and somewhat
| S2Vage-think what you wiil-yet the smack
of papaw goes through me with a multi
! of past days and years and iingerings and
! truancies. Yesterday a. strong woodcock
took wing near my toes i'm a wild custard
grove. and L had neither bow nor gun: but
munchlng my savage fruit, L recalled
IN one second each oozy cripple that
The twang of the bow DOW cord. the boom lu Of
| the gun. the camp fires and the sayory
oroilings; they rushed into my brain and
went tinSling from heart center to outmosi
eXtremities-all on account Of a papaw and
! d flushed woodcocki There is a mingline
of a hundred iine sweets and savory tangs
in the Juice of this rank apple. and il goes
we'll with spitted dark-leshed game What
manifold sauce IL is for a luncheon
on a messy, leg beside a spring head
. Three spltted doves of the latest summed
i Eatching and an overripe papaw-there i.
| feast for the Pan of the West,
But year by year this golden ambrosia
fruit Is disappearing. The farmers a,
whacks down all the sturdy clumps and N,
man plants seeds for future orchards
From Indiana to Georgia how few of IN,
once fiourishing papaw thickets are left 70
the poet and the virile man of the woods
TO lounge in while feasting on the savag
rolls of cuStard'