CHAPTER IX 



March Winds 



A PECK of dust in March, we have all been taught, is worth 

 a king's ransom. The farmer may find it so ; he generally 

 wants it dry when others would like it wet, and then 

 grumbles because some crop has not grown. He is 

 always waiting for dry weather to get on the land himself 

 or to get something off it, so he may put that hateful 

 peck of what the schoolboy defined as mud with the juice 

 squeezed out, on his credit side, but I do not suppose I am 

 alone among gardeners in feeling it is more likely to cost 

 a king's ransom to renew the plants it kills. Those cruel, 

 drying March winds do so much terrible damage, or at 

 least they put a finishing stroke to many a struggling 

 invalid, shaken but not killed by the winter's frosts. If 

 only they could tide over another week or two the warmer 

 ground would help along the growth of their new roots, 

 and enough sap would run up to equalise their loss by 

 transpiration, but with imperfect roots and an east wind 

 they shrivel up and give up the struggle in an hour or 

 two. An aged Cistus bush will often be the first to 

 show the bill is coming in ; Bamboos, Miscanthus, and 

 Choisya jot down fresh items, and you are lucky if the 

 young green shoots of Crown Imperials, Eremuri, and 

 precocious Lilies are not included. It is an anxious and 

 149 



