After the shadbush is in full bloom, the other early wild flowers, that grow beside the old road, come into bloom in rapid succession. As I pass along to or from the city, I see in the distance patches of white which, if I did not know better, would lead me to think that I had discovered some beautiful low white flower. When I reach the spot I find it is spring everlasting (Antennaria plantaginifolia). I give the scientific name of this insignificant flower, because every spring scores of woodland ramblers bring it to me and ask its name. Early in the spring the flower is a very good white, but as the season advances, it becomes a dirty greenish white. The stem is cottony and the leaves, when young, are covered with a silky wool. With age, the leaves become green above and grayish below. One should make its acquaintance early in the spring, before other and better flowers become plentiful.
There is a clump of bushes near the brook that attracts my attention early. It is the fly honeysuckle. The pale green leaves appear while other shrubs can boast only swelling buds. Later, its slender branches are covered with honey-colored bell-shaped flowers. The flowers hang in pairs, and are airy and graceful.
On a hillside, near the road, the slender but wiry wild columbine swings its Chinese lanterns above its humble neighbors, the star-flower and the windflower. Near Western Avenue, where the bed rock overlooks the harbor, the cliffs are white with saxifrage. Scattered along the old highway may be found the common cinquefoil. Its yellow flower looks like a strawberry blossom, and strawberry blossom it is to most persons. If one is in doubt let him or her place the two side by side. The strawberry leaves are in three divisions, while the cinquefoil is in five. The stems of the strawberry are hairy, while the stems of cinquefoil are clean, brown, and wiry. The silvery cinquefoil grows all along the roadsides of Western Avenue, from the Cut to the drawbridge.
In late spring and early summer the viburnums afford a mass of bloom that makes the old road look like a cultivated shrub garden. Here the wild roses are a blaze of color. I do not believe that there is another spot on earth where the wild roses can compete with those on Cape Ann.
The city end of the old highway in mid-summer is white with the fragrant bloom of the sweet pepperbush. Then, too, the wild orange-red lily takes possession of the roadsides and waste places.
It is marvellous, that for one hundred and fifty years, this deserted old highway has maintained an existence.
Brave Old Road! You are gullied by frost and flood; you are worried by catbrier and choked by brambles. You are cursed by poison-ivy, and blessed by climbing woodbine. By night, yours is the highway of the skunk, the weasel, the raccoon, the fox, the mink, the woodchuck, and the rabbit. By day, the grouse and quail seek your grassy spots for food, and your tiny brooks for water. Birds of all kinds nest and sing in the shrubby growth that borders your roadsides. May you never lose the wildness, which, for one hundred and fifty years, you have rescued from civilization.
I have mentioned poison-ivy and woodbine. It is easy to tell one from the other. Poison-ivy has three leaflets, and the woodbine has five. When leafless, examine the method of climbing. The stem of the poison-ivy is covered thickly with fine rootlets, while the stem of the woodbine is sparingly supplied with tendrils by which it clings and climbs.
Thoreau writes: "It takes a savage or wild taste to appreciate a wild apple." Again, "What is sour in the house, a bracing walk makes sweet. Some of these apples might be labelled 'to be eaten in the wind.'"