.A WINTER SLEEPER 



THE idea of lifelessness which inevitably associates 

 itself with the winter aspect of field, wood, and 

 garden is, of course, one that will not survive a 

 second thought. There is, as a matter of fact, 

 only a little less life in the ground in winter than 

 there is on and over the ground in summer. All 

 the floral life of the summer is there, latent in 

 seeds innumerable and in the roots of the biennial 

 and perennial plants. Most of the insect -life of 

 the summer is there in the form of hibernating 

 insects, of larvae or of pupae. Countless numbers 

 of the unobstrusive little mammals which we know 

 to be about and active in summer-time, though we 

 rarely see them, are snugly tucked away in burrows 

 and crannies, sleeping through the dead days, 

 destined to emerge and resume the state of activity 

 in the spring. But the impression of deadness is 

 so masterful that it is only when chance brings 

 us upon some of the sleeping inhabitants of the 

 soil that it is temporarily overcome. 



And, though one ought to know that they are 

 there, it is always with a little shock of surprise 

 that one comes upon them. The other day I 

 addressed myself to the task of breaking up the 



roots and replanting some delphiniums, and with 

 301 



