A year among the trees

by Wilson Flagg

AUTUMN WOODS.

When the golden-rods in field and border have perceptibly faded, and we are growing weary of the monotony of summer landscape, autumn, the great limner of the forest, spreads over the earth new and enchanting pictures. Dim lights spring up daily among the shadows of the trees, and grove, copse, and thicket suffer a gradual metamorphosis. The woods are illuminated by such an array of colors that their late dark recesses appear to have the brightness of sunshine. Where a few days since there was but a shady obscurity of faded green, there gleams a luminous beauty from myriads of tinted leaves. As the twilight of the year comes on, the trees appear one after another in their new garniture, like the clouds of evening, as sunset deepens into darkness.

There is no scene in nature more purely delightful than the autumn woods when they have attained the fulness of their splendor. The sentiment of melancholy which is associated with the fall of the leaf increases our susceptibility to be affected by these parting glories of the year. So sweetly blended are the lights and colors in this gorgeous array, that no sense is wearied. The very imperfection of the hues gives a healthful zest to the spectacle, causing it never to weary like the more brilliant colors of a flower-bed. The hues of sunrise are more ethereal and exhilarating; but there is a sober mellowness in the tints of autumn that inspires the most healthful temper of mind. Far and near, from the wooded hills that display a variegated spectacle of gold, scarlet, and purple; from turrets of rocks embroidered with ferns and sumach; from old winding roads and lanes, hedged with a countless variety of gleaming shrubs, and rustic cottages half covered with scarlet creeper, down to the crimson patches of whortleberry-bushes, on the plains and in the valleys,—all is serenity and beauty.

I have often observed that the autumn woods never present that picture of gloom which is so manifest in them on a cloudy day in summer. In one respect the foliage itself is luminous, presenting warm colors that reflect light, so that the interior of a wood is actually brightened by the tinting of the leaves. I find but little pleasure in an evergreen wood at this time, unless it is illuminated by an occasional group of deciduous trees. Autumn is a sad time of the year,—the season of parting with all that was delightful in summer. The darkness of the atmosphere is even greater than in winter, when the earth is whitened by snow. We hail these warm tints of the woods, therefore, as a beneficent offering of nature for the refreshment of our spirits. All these things are beautiful even in cloudy weather, but the sun greatly enlivens the colors of the foliage, particularly when it goes down in a clear atmosphere, and every object is garnished with its beams, and mingles with golden reflections from hundreds of cottage windows. We watch their evanescent lights as they fade in the valleys and linger on the hill-tops, until twilight veils the scene in colorless shadow.

Though every one admires the beauty of autumn woods, not many are aware how imperfect are the colors that make up this gorgeous pageant. We speak of the scarlet and crimson of the maple, the oak, and the tupelo, and of many shrubs that equal them in brilliancy. But there is very little pure scarlet, crimson, or purple among these tints. If it were otherwise they would afford us less pleasure. In that case our senses would be intoxicated; now they are healthfully as well as agreeably stimulated. Pure colors spread over so wide an extent of surface would be too intense for perfect enjoyment. All the dyes of autumn foliage are sobered by the admixture of some earthy hue, something that prevents their rivalling the tints of heaven.

Green and yellow are often seen in their purity in the leaves of trees; crimson and scarlet are seldom pure, except in some parts of the brightest leaves. Even their green is not perfect, save in that stage of their development that precedes their full expansion. After this period, as the landscape-painter well knows, all verdure is tarnished and rusty. Indeed, the colors of leaves will not bear comparison with those of flowers, either in purity or variety; yet when viewed from a distance, and illuminated by sunshine, they seem nearly pure. Red leaves of different shades in sunshine produce at a distance the effect of crimson or scarlet, chocolate hues that of purple, and browns that of orange.

The hues of autumn are not very conspicuous before the middle of September, and it is worthy of notice that the brightest and purest colors are seen at the time when three fourths of the trees still remain unchanged. As one after another assumes its ruddy, golden and purple hues, the earlier and more brilliant drop their leaves; and some are entirely denuded, while others are fully covered with foliage and verdure. Even different individuals of the same species, of maples especially, manifest a great difference of habit in this respect, caused in some cases by the peculiarities of their situation. Trees in swamps and low grounds lose their leaves earlier than the occupants of a deep soil in the uplands.

Some species are perfectly uniform in their colors. The poplar and birch, for example, are invariably yellow; the sumach and whortleberry are chiefly red; while the maples display as many colors as if they were of different species. But each individual tree shows nearly the same every year, as apple-trees bear fruit of the same tints from year to year. Two red maples growing side by side are seldom alike, and in a group of them you will see almost as many shades of color as trees. Some are entirely yellow, others scarlet, some crimson, purple, or orange, others variegated with several of these colors. There is more uniformity in the tints of the sugar maple. I have seen long rows of this species that were only yellow and orange, though its colors generally vary from orange to scarlet. Purple and crimson are confined chiefly to the red maple; I have seen in different individuals of this species all the hues that are ever displayed in the autumn woods. The red maples, more than all other trees combined, are the crowning glory of a New England autumn. The sugar maple, though more brilliant, has a narrower range of colors.

As early as the last week in August, we perceive the tinting of a few red maples, which always exhibit the earliest change. Sometimes a solitary branch is tinted, while the remainder of the foliage is green, as if something affecting its vitality had prematurely colored it. Frequently the coloring process begins at the top; the purple crown of autumn is placed upon the green brow of summer, and we behold the two seasons represented at once in the same tree.

The first coloration is usually seen at the veins of the leaf, extending outwardly until the whole is tinted. Sometimes it appears in spots, like drops of blood upon the green surface; and in this case the leaf usually remains spotted. In the foliage of trees that assume a variety of colors, yellows generally predominate in the interior of the mass, red and purple on the outside. In the red maple, and less frequently in the rock maple when in a protected situation, the leaves are often formally variegated with figures of yellow, red, green, and purple. Those of the poison sumach, the cornel, and the snowy mespilus, are sometimes beautifully striated with yellow or orange upon a darker ground; but I have searched the woods in vain to find any other than a maple-leaf configurated like a butterfly’s wing.