Where Town and Country Meet 



the universal, perpetual rejuvenation of the 

 spring; and so long as we can share it, we 

 are not old, but still belong to the youth and 

 enthusiasm and fecundity of nature. 



Even so early as the first week in April, 

 with frost still lingering in the open fields 

 and snow littering the woods to their very 

 edges, the first rambler of the season will 

 find some few hardy wild flowers, either 

 with half-open buds or in brave full bloom. 

 I saw, on this crisp April day, even before 

 I came to the southward-sloping bank be 

 neath the woods, what looked like a deli 

 cate mat of ladies' veils, or a gigantic, iri 

 descent spider's web spread out in the sun, 

 and knew it to be a densely clustered bed 

 of the grayish-blue Houstonia, or bluets. 

 There they trembled in the wind, those ex 

 quisite frail flowers, like little mouse-ears 

 raised aloft on swaying stalks. How frag 

 ile! At a little distance they looked like 

 a puff of smoke that the wind must pres 

 ently drive away. And yet they are so 

 hardy as to survive frosts and even late 

 snowstorms. I have pulled them out of the 

 snow, as fresh and unwilted and shining 

 as the hour they broke the sod. Indeed, 

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