194 A Little Maryland Garden 
from it. I have set mine out in the orange 
and blue border, as I determined to break 
the lilies into clumps by taller plants set in 
between, rather than have them again as 
an unbroken mass down the length of the 
bed. 
October slips away, and in late November 
the snow has not yet come. The garden is 
still green, and even has its flowers. Some 
border pinks, wakened to a late bloom, keep 
on opening fringed and scented blossoms, 
and the violets are still opening. These 
violets, like so many of my best plants, were 
given me from an old garden. They bloom 
spring and fall, and have increased so fast 
that they need dividing. The flowers are 
small, but very fragrant, and I have seen 
them so late that they were encased in ice, 
when the morning shadow was on them. 
Then, too, we are never quite without a 
flower when the golden dandelion smiles 
from crannies of the stones and fence corners 
where he has intrenched himself. Bold, 
gay, and irrepressible, he is with us early and 
