A GARDEN DIARY 81 



be replenished, I am assured, once in twenty- 

 four hours. Her garden lies in the heart of a 

 big pinewood, and the fire has its home in an 

 open lodge or gazebo, supported by larch poles, 

 without door or window, but made possible to 

 sit in in cold weather, by being match-boarded 

 upon two sides, the south and south-east sides 

 alone being widely open. Until one has actually 

 tried, it is difficult to believe how comfortable 

 one can be in such a spot even on a very frosty 

 evening, both feet extended to the blaze, and 

 a rug tucked round one to keep off stray 

 draughts. As daylight wanes the red glow 

 increases, lighting up the big pine trunks, and 

 awakening in one's mind vagrant suggestions 

 of camp fires, and forest settlements, while at 

 other times it has the practical advantage of 

 making many garden operations possible which, 

 without such a speedy refuge to fly to, would 

 in this chill-evoking climate of ours scarce be 

 practicable. 



It is odd what minute deviations from the 

 everyday stir the mind, and help it to shake 

 off that crust of routine, which it ought to be 

 the aim of all of us to get rid of. In these 

 days too, one is thankful to anything that gives 

 a stir to existence, apart from the weary news- 

 papers. It is, I think, one of the few merits 

 of winter that spots, at other times tame to 

 flatness, seem in fierce, or exceptionally cold 

 G 



