CONCERNING HARDY PLANTS 47 



of the parent plant has quite passed from it. That is 

 why the seed of a hardy plant, self-sown at midsummer, 

 grows with so much more vigour than kindred seed that 

 has been lodged in a packet since the previous season. 



My way of "first aiding" these seeds is to tie them 

 loosely in a wisp of fine cheese-cloth or muslin, leaving 

 a length of string for a handle (as tea is sometimes pre- 

 pared for the pot by those who do not like mussy tea 

 leaves). Dip the bag in hot (not boiling) water, 

 and leave it there at least an hour, oftentimes all night. 

 In this way the seed is softened and germination awak- 

 ened. I have left pansy seeds in soak for twenty-four 

 hours with good results. Of course the seed should be 

 planted before it dries, and rubbing it in a little earth 

 (after the manner of flouring currants for cake) will 

 keep the seeds from sticking either to the fingers or to 

 each other. 



What a contrast it all is, our economy and nature's 

 lavishness; our impatience, nature's calm assurance! 

 In the garden the sower feels a responsibility, the sweat 

 beads stand on the brow in the sowing. With nature 

 undisturbed it may be the blind flower of the wild violet 

 perfecting its moist seed under the soil, a nod of a stalk 

 to the wind, a ball of fluff sailing by, or the hunger of a 

 bird, and the sowing is done. 



