Jean-Henri Fabre,
The Life of the Caterpillar
“ Only his ravages and his poison deserve serious attention. On the Sérignan hills, sunny heights upon which the Mediterranean vegetation comes to an end, the arbutus, or strawberry-tree, [151] abounds: a magnificent shrub, with lustrous evergreen foliage, vermilion fruit, round and fleshy as strawberries, and hanging clusters of little white bells resembling those of the lily of the valley. When the frosts come at the approach of December, nothing could be more charming than the arbutus, decking its gay verdure with both fruits and flowers, with coral balls and plump little bells. ”
