where small rustling groves of oaks and locusts and whispering pines, on perfectly level ground, made a little paradise. The locusts, both transplanted and growing naturally about the houses there, appeared to flourish better than any other tree. Both oaks and pines had often the same flat look with the apple trees. Commonly, the oak woods twenty-five years old were a mere scraggy shrubbery nine or ten feet high, ane we could frequently reach to their top most leaf. Much that is called "woods" was about half as high as this,- the only patches of shrub-oak, bayberry, beach-plum, and wild roses, overrun with woodbine. (thoreau)
And it began to drift into my imagination...I have no respect for those who are lovers of the town...as a traveller I seek views more agreeable to the eye...here in the Greeley woods...past the din of the agora...I find sublime peace. here..in the play of the light...the dance of the shadow...it is magic to my spirit...
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