E friend who had spent some time with us dur- 

 ing the summer when the garden was in its pop- 

 pied, rosy heyday, writes to me when December 

 snows arrive : " Now that winter is here I suppose 

 your friends may expect to hear from you once in 

 awhile as you will certainly be forced willy nilly to 

 lay down your rake and hoe." 



It is the second of December when I quizzically 

 smile over this letter and wonder if this city moth 

 will believe me if I tell her I look forward to one of 

 my busiest months in the garden; that there will not 

 be a day's cessation of the labor and joy in the out- 

 of-doors. This is a blessed provision of necessity 

 for with the first brittle taste of December and the 

 crisping of energy, the very frost in the nostrils 

 whets the muscles to toil, and with every breath of 

 the chilling air there is the message to hurry, to 

 175 



