Even in winter, the roadsides were places of beauty, where countless birds came to feed on the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds rising above the snow. Along the roads, laurel, viburnum, and alder, great ferns and wild flowers delighted the traveller’s eye through much of the year. Then foxes barked in the hills and deer crossed the fields, half hidden in the mists of the mornings. In autumn, oak and maple and birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered across a backdrop of pines. The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperous farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards, where white clouds of bloom drifted above the green land. There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to be in harmony with its surroundings.
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