Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-09-02
Leaves and Insects.

EVEN before the long, dry Summer
had departed, the coming on OF
Autumn was foretold in a hundred
signs. The leaves from the drought
stricken trees had long ago turned yell
low-the very color and flag of drought.
First to fall are catalpa leaves in the
city streets-soft tropic trees that Leaf
out reluctantly in Spring, fall early in
Autumn or even in Summer.
BY the farm door the Shellbark
hickory leaves twirl down, parched
ruin; the poplar in the suburban gar
den throws down its round, gold foli-
age like so many coins of an issue OUT
worn, invalid. called in, as the Treas
ury would say, to the great bank of
Mother Earth. The grass, too, is yell
lowed or Drowned, and the painting
rabbit. even he the soft-footed one,
through the desolate blades and culms
of the sedges around the dried pond.
So the fading hues of Autumn have
shown themselves already.
Less desolate, the insects raise q
shrill cry; the grasshoppers and all
their tribe whirr in the meadow grass,
and the crickets, weaving a threnody
for Summer, saw out their tiny lay in
the secret rtinways. Now herons, medi-
close to farm and town in search Of
water that, even on the high roads, a
passing car may startle up a wading
bird and send him. with musical, me-
tallic cry, winging in ruffled dignity
legs trailing. for the nearest tree grove
Birds everywhere are making ready
for departure. The spotted sandpipers
which always migrate in September,
win hasten away discouraged In this
-If u
ming birds, the king birds and the
crested flycatchers. who have the dis
tant tropics to attain, must wait no
longer. We shall not, soon, have with
us the cliff swallow, the barn swallow,
the martin or the tree swallow, and in
few days the first vireos will gather
for the Southwark flight, and the
orioles, too, must be on their way.
Blooming of the Asters.
Not drought. not disaster, not war,
death or famine. or come what may
will prevent the blooming of the aster
flowers They trail. poet has said.
''like smoke upon the hills" but what a
lovely smoke--tfle smoke, surely, the
violet, bitter breath of vanished In
dian campfires. They always seem to
me, with all the rest of Autumn,
peculiarly the red mans. All Of our
western continent, our ruQdy, sunset
continent, was once the Indians happy
hunting ground. The corn, the pump
kin, the scarlet of sumac leaves, the
haze of Indian Summer, the goldeprod
and aster-all things Of Autumn are
his.
The asters of our fora are Is in
number. They come in shades of
purple, lilac, bright blue, pale blue,
white, white flushed with rose, bright
rose and every shade but yellow. They
grow as low as half foot in height;
they mount at times to TO- where aster
puniceus flowers in the swamps.
A common, little fellow of dry fields
and hillsides has the tiny leaves, the
wiry stems of heather and its flowers
are white and starry. The white wood
aster is a nymph worth long ramble
and many burs to capture, with her
4 aristocratic, long petals and her eyes
Of gold and brown. Rarest of all. and
much the finest, with great heads OF
q brilliant purple flowers, is the New Eng
8 land aSter.
Old country people call the aster
farewell Summer" When 1t blooms
the dog days are done; the hot moons
will be over: the crickets have not long
TO live and sing; sunsets come earlier:
they are somber, murky; they are the
pyre of the Midsummer treasures; they
are old battle flags of the scorchine