LOTS 137 



the changing tints of the water and the clouds. 

 The sky looks very near and immense, while far 

 to the north looms the gray, smoke-dimmed city, 

 unreal and apart. 



In the very middle of a low weed-grown vacant 

 block, all about which flat buildings are springing 

 up, still unknown and unsuspected to the multi- 

 plying race of those whose only habitat is the 

 pavements, grow sunny armloads of golden -rod 

 and bright yellow sunflowers, and as we emerge 

 with our burden, people wonder where we have 

 been journeying surely somewhere far out of 

 town. 



There are some beauties that even an improve- 

 ment association cannot destroy, and the close- 

 guarded lots near us still are lovely until mowing 

 time. In the early spring the dandelions make 

 field of cloth of gold, to turn in a week or two 

 into silvery expanses of feathery what-o'clocks. 

 Later the June grass and the red-top are all in 

 bloom on the low ridges, and the squirrel grass 

 its plumes were "pussy-tails" in our childhood 

 flourishes along the walks. 



The vacant lots between houses, too small to 

 merit the attention of our enemy, still attract our 

 explorations, and their green tangles yield rich 

 and surprising results. A blue closed gentian 



