XXVII 



RUBYTHROAT 



IN the northwest corner of our yard stood a clump of 

 Blue Damson plum trees. They had not always heen 

 Blue Damson plums. Father had set out only one tree and 

 it was supposed to be a large blue plum. This tree never 

 ripened any fruit because of the plum curculio. You can 

 read the story of this in "Knowing Insects Through Sto- 

 ries." Finally this tree died or was broken down. In its 

 stead a number of sprouts came up, grew vigorously, and 

 within two or three years were bearing. We could not know 

 whether they were like the parent tree or not until they 

 were large enough to bear, and as plum trees were expensive 

 in those days all were left to see what they would be. After 

 these bore and proved to be damsons, we cut out the 

 weaker trees and allowed eight or ten of the best to re- 

 main. 



On one side of these Damson plums stood a clump of 

 hardy hibiscus that died to the ground each winter but 

 came up every spring and made plants six feet or more 

 tall, and for weeks bore a mass of giant white flowers with 

 crimson centers. Growing beside this hibiscus were sev- 

 eral clumps of columbine, and ten or fifteen feet away was 

 a coral honeysuckle, while roses grew in profusion all 

 over the yard. It is small wonder that mother and father 



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