The oaks are not yet in full leaf, but the maples have nearly reached their full mantle of verdure--they are very beautiful and charming to see.
It is curious how at this moment of the year all the world seems astir.
I suppose there is no moment in any of the seasons when the whole army of agriculture, regulars and reserves, is so fully drafted for service in the fields.

And all the doors and windows, both in the little villages and on the farms, stand wide open to the sunshine, and all the women and girls are busy in the yards and gardens.

Such a fine, active, gossipy, adventurous world as it is at this moment of the year! It is the time, too, when all sorts of travelling people are afoot.
People who have been mewed up in the cities for the winter now take to the open road--all the peddlers and agents and umbrella-menders, all the nursery salesmen and fertilizer agents, all the tramps and scientists and poets--all abroad in the wide sunny roads.

They, too, know well this hospitable moment of the spring; they, too, know that doors and hearts are open and that even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of adventure.

Why, a farmer will buy a corn planter, feed a tramp, or listen to a poet twice as easily at this time of year as at any other! For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the bustling life of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul, but strode straight ahead.