When you see bare, leafless trees blowing in the winter gale, and often loaded with snow, they look dead. But they are only asleep, like the squirrel and the bee, with their food safely stored away. On any bit of twig you can find little brown knobs and points, often smaller than wheat seeds. They are next year's leaf and branch and flower buds. They are rolled tight and wrapped in fur and spicy gums, to keep out the cold and water. In the first warm days, in February or March, these buds swell. If you break off some twigs of willow or lilac, and put them in a jar of water in a sunny window, you can watch them burst into green leaves and branches and flower buds.
Like the squirrel, the plant stores its food for winter, and it pops out of its hole and goes to work again, just as soon as earth and air and sunshine say:
"Wake up, children, spring is here."
And some trees, like the willow, alder and poplar, even whisk their saucy little catkin tails in the air, just like squirrels.
