ny-green under the
sky, and the world seems bigger than before. It is not a time for dreams
nor a time for exploits; it is a time for--for--well, for berrying!

But you must choose your days carefully, as you do your fishing and
hunting days. The berries "bite best" with a brisk west wind, though a
south one is not to be despised, and a north one gives a pleasant
suggestion of fall while the sun has still all the fervor of summer.
Choose a sky that has clouds in it, too, for you will feel their
movement even when you do not look up. Then take your pail and set out.
Do not be in a hurry and do not promise to be back at any definite time.
Either go alone or with just the right companion. I do not know any
circumstances wherein the choice of a companion needs more care than in
berrying. It may make or mar the whole adventure. For you must have a
person not too energetic, or a standard of speed will be established
that will spoil everything; nor too conscientious--it is maddening to be
told that you have not picked the bushes clean enough; nor too diligent,
so that one feels guilty if one looks at the view or acknowledges the
breeze; nor too restless, so that one is being constantly haled to fresh
woods and pastures new. A slightly garrulous person is not bad, with a
desultory, semi-philosophic bent, and a gift for being contented with
easy physical occupation. In fact, I find that I am, by exclusion and
inclusion, narrowing my description to fit a certain type of small boy.
And indeed I believe that here the ideal companion is to be found,--if
indeed he is not, as I more than suspect he is, the ideal companion for
every form of recreation in life. Yes, the boy is the thing. Some of my
choicest hours in the berry lots have been spent with a boy as
companion, some boy who loves to be in the wind and sun without knowing
that he loves it, who philosophizes without knowing that he does so, who
picks berries with sufficient diligence sometimes, and with a
delightful irresponsibility at other times; who likes to move on, now
and then, but is happy to kick turf around the edges of the clump if you
are inclined to stay. Who takes pride in filling his pail, but is not so
desperately single-minded that he is unmoved by the seductions of
goldenrod in bloom, of juniper and bayberries, of dry goldenrod stalks
(for kite sticks), of deserted birds' nests, and all the other delights
that fall in his way.

For berrying does not consist chi