The Sweet o 9 the Year 



j||WEET of sound and scent and sight, the sweetest month 

 ^** of the year, sweet September. The world is full of 

 sweetness, the song of birds, the scent of flowers, and the open- 

 ing buds all joining in the eternal spring-song. In the garden 

 the little baby flowers are a-growing and a-blowing pansies, 

 daisies, and the tiny banksia roses, have all come out to 

 enjoy the freshness of the world. Later on the more gorgeous 

 sisters will arrive in all their glory, but at present the smaller 

 blossoms bloom unrivalled. Over fences and arches hang 

 cascades of lilac glory where the wistaria reigns for a few brief 

 weeks ; shining red tips show where the new leaves have 

 sprouted out on the rose bushes, which but a month ago 

 were bald and clipped ; in the borders, primroses gleam against 

 soft leaves, almost compensating for the loss of the violets 

 which so lately enriched the edges with their sweetness ; 

 stocks and phlox, anemones and ranunculus, make brilliant 

 patches on green lawns, and beds of poppies hold their own 

 against all comers. The garden is an unending joy and a 

 bower of sweetness. 



In the orchard are rows of trees all gaily decked in pink 

 and white. Near by, the soft, red blush tells where more 

 blossoms are waiting their turn to dazz 1 e the world 

 with beauty, while the tender green on the other trees 



