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MIXED DAYS OF MAY AND DECEMBER. 219 



as to seem to justify the idea that these insects prefer 

 blue. Or perhaps the blue flowers secrete sweeter honey. 

 Every kind of wild bee as yet flying visits this plant, 

 tiny bees barely a quarter of an inch long, others as big 

 as two filberts, some a deep amber, some striped like 

 wasps. A little of Chaucer's May has come ; now and 

 then a short hour or two of sunshine between the finger 

 and thumb of the north wind. Most pleasant it is to see 

 the eave swallow dive down from the roof and rush over 

 the scarcely green garden — a household sign of summer. 

 In the lane if you gather them the young leaves of the 

 sycamore have a fragrant scent like a flower, and low 

 down ferns are unrolling. On the low wall sits a yellow- 

 hammer, just brightly touched afresh with colour. 

 Happy greenfinches go by, and it is curious to note how 

 the instant they enter the hedge they are lost now under 

 the leaves ; so few days ago they would have been un- 

 concealed. So near is it to summer that the first thrush 

 begins to sing at three o'clock in the morning. 



