GARDEN PNEUMONIA 75 



seen my vegetables and flowers at five in the 

 morning frozen stiff as icicles, but an hour or 

 two later every one of them came out of its 

 Arctic stupor smilingly and continued to revel 

 in the luxury of living. 



JACK FROST IS INNOCENT 



The sun does the mischief, when mischief is 

 done. Paradoxical as it may seem, he is the 

 true inwardness of frost. Far be it from me to 

 speak disrespectfully of the heavenly bodies, 

 but I must say that in this matter of frost the 

 sun behaves disgracefully. He is worse than 

 any I. W. W. infinitely worse, being a perpetra- 

 tor of sabotage on a cosmic scale. Every 

 autumn he destroys the world's gardens one 

 morning in September or October, and then 

 smiles benignly and whispers, "Don't you love 

 me for the pleasant warmth I diffuse?" 



Most people hold Jack Frost responsible, but 

 Jack is not the naughty boy at all. He might 

 say truthfully: "I cannot tell a lie. The sun 

 did it." It is the rays of the rising sun falling 

 on the frozen plants that make them wilt. 

 Why this is so I don't know, and I don't know 

 if anybody knows. But I remember how, as a 

 boy, I used to help my father and brother make 

 smudges to keep the rising sun from "freezing" 

 the precious apple blossoms in our Oregon 

 orchard. The apple trees themselves are, as 

 you know, hardy; they prosper even in Grafton 



