40 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



earth after a thaw, a breath of soft air, a wave 

 of delicious sweetness, in April, in March, in 

 February, when it comes in January I 

 harden my heart and try not to notice, 

 this is enough to spoil me for the dry fodder of 

 winter. Hay may be good and wholesome, 

 but I have had my taste of spring grass, and 

 it is enough. That or nothing. No more hay 

 for me! 



What that strange sweetness of the early 

 spring is I have never fully discovered. The 

 fragrance of flowers is in it, hepaticas, 

 white violets, arbutus, yet it is none of 

 these. It comes before any of the flowers are 

 even astir, when the arbutus buds are still 

 tight little green points, when the hepaticas 

 have scarcely pushed open their winter 

 sheaths, while their soft little gray-furred 

 heads are still tucked down snugly, like a 

 bird s head under its wing. Before even the 

 snowdrops at our feet and the maples over 

 head have thought of blossoming, a soft 

 breath may blow across our path filled with 

 this wondrous fragrance. It is like a dream of 

 May. One might believe the fairies were pass 

 ing by. 



