Its heavy green was varied with the pale delicate fringes of the fresh foliage of the larches, filling the air with aromatic breath.

In the midst of their soft tufts, each tuft buttoned with a brown spot, hung the rich brown knobs and tassels of last year's cones.

But the trees were all on the opposite side of the stream, and appeared to be mostly on the other side of a wall.

Where Gibbie was, the mountain-root was chiefly of rock, interspersed with heather.
A little way up the stream, he came to a bridge over it, closed at the farther end by iron gates between pillars, each surmounted by a wolf's head in stone.

Over the gate on each side leaned a rowan-tree, with trunk and branches aged and gnarled amidst their fresh foliage.