THE SWEET O' THE YEAR 



breeze like a thousand tiny 

 butterflies. At times the 

 gold stands out in bright 

 relief against some vivid 

 green, at times melts feel- 

 ingly into the soft brown 

 tints of the neighbouring 

 she-oaks; but always it 

 catches the eye with its 

 intensity and brings the 

 sunshiny feeling to the 

 heart. 



The flannel flowers are not 

 yet properly opened, though 

 here and there a white star 

 flower gleams out. In the 

 half-blown buds little bright 

 beetles rest snugly, nestling- 

 down on to the soft woolly 

 bed with its velvet cover- 

 let. There never was a 

 sweeter, cosier cradle than 

 the half-shut bud of a 

 flannel flower, and they are 

 happy beetles that rest 

 thereon. 



Tall sprays of pink epacris 



