_Honk_, _honk_, _honk!_ Shall I hear them going over,--going northward,--as I have heard them going southward this fall? Winter comes down in their wake. There is the clang of the cold in their trumpeting, the closing of iron gates, the bolting of iron doors for the long boreal night. They pass and leave the forests empty, the meadows brown and sodden, the rivers silent, the bays and lakes close sealed. Spring will come up with them on their return; and their _honk_, _honk_, _honk_ will waken the frogs from their oozy slumbers and stir every winter sleeper to the very circle of the Pole. _Honk_, _honk_, _honk!_ Oh, may I be awake to hear you, ye strong-winged travelers on the sky, when ye go over northward, calling the sleeping earth to waken, calling all the South to follow you through the broken ice-gates of the North! _Honk_, _honk_, _honk!_ The wild geese are passing--southward! NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS CHAPTER I TO THE TEACHER Go yourself frequently into the fields and woods, or into the city parks, or along the water front--anywhere so that you can touch nature directly, and look and listen for yourselves. Don’t try to teach what you do not know, and there is nothing in this book that you cannot know, for the _lesson_ to be taught in each chapter is a spiritual lesson, not a number of bare facts. This spiritual lesson you must first learn before you can teach it--must _feel_, I should say; and a single thoughtful excursion alone into the autumn fields will give you possession of it. And what is the lesson in this chapter? Just this: that the strong growths of summer, the ripening of seeds and fruits, the languid lazy spirit, and the pensive signs of coming autumn are all the manifold preparations of nature for a fresh outburst of life with the coming of spring. FOR THE PUPIL PAGE 1 _The clock of the year strikes one_: When, in the daytime, the clock strikes one, the hour of noon is past; the afternoon begins. On the 21st of June the clock of the year strikes twelve--noon! By late July the clock strikes one--the noon hour is past! Summer is gone; autumn--the afternoon of the year--begins. _going “creepy-creep”_: In the quiet of some July day in fields or woods, listen to the stirring of the insects and other small wood creatures. All summer long they are going about their business, but in the midst of stronger noises we are almost deaf to their world of little sounds. PAGE 3 _begins to shift_: Why is the oak’s shadow likely to be “round” at noon? What causes the shadow to “shift”; or move? In which direction would it move?