Boho Ss AVN DD BE RRL E's 
IN 
MY GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN 
\ ORTHY, indeed, is the garden that is planted, not for 
1 beauty alone, but for the welfare of Nature's children 
} as well. Such a one brings greater pleasure to him who 
ay gives and a goodly measure of comfort and enjoyment to 
those exquisite, feathered creatures of the air - the 
birds - that take. It throbs with joyous life and color and 
rare music from scores of tiny throats when bright ber- 
ried shrubs and simple flowers and the birds that love 
them live within it. One who loves the flowers is sure to 
love the birds, for are not they and the butterflies and 
honeybees and the sunshine generally assembled together 
in his mind when he dreams of the perfect garden? 
Only one such garden have I ever seen; it lay on 
the small plot of ground that surrounded my grandmoth-~ 
ers cottage. Remembering it as I first saw it, shining 
in the early June sunlight, every leaf and bud a~sparkle, 
warblers flitting about, robins scurrying over the grass, 
and the sweet call of the oriole floating from the old 
elm, | think it was the happiest conception of bird gar-~- 
den possible. Surely beauty had not been sacrificed in 
planning this refuge for the birds; indeed, it was quite the 
quaintest and lovliest of gardens! 
Only fleeting glimpses of its simple charm could be 
had from the highway, for great clumps of bush honey- 
suckle and red-twigged dogwood screened it from veiw, 
giving it an atmosphere of intimate exclusiveness that was 
most delightful. ' Roses and gilliflowers made the air as 
sweet as the winds of Arabia; they grew profusely as did 
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