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maple is already opening & the red is [[strikethrough]] alrea [[/strikethrough]] out in in the wet places with the green willows. Later there will be large leaves & umbrage and tulip tree flowers & the air will be filled with the smell of grape & honeysuckle— on to the turn of the season— about my birthday— when all the train of fall flowers will mark the time, flowers I greet with almost a greater glow than these — to the [[strikethrough]] + the [[/strikethrough]] innumerable different violets — the Moccason Flower in the fulness of Summer + If I should go on I would never stop. I know every stone and stump by which they grow, and could almost lay my hands on them if you took me there blind-folded. The black oaks & the white and the rugged and tardy nut trees will put out their delicate leaves & catkins before long. The hard