178 IN A COLORADO NOOK. 



nor sorrel. Rather, picture in your mind a 

 flower-bed, more rich and gay than ever met 

 your admiring eyes. Yellow daisies by thou- 

 sands turning their shining faces up to the sun ; 

 royal purple clusters of a blossoming mint glow- 

 ing in the brilliant light ; larkspurs four feet 

 high, thrusting themselves above the rest like 

 blue banners here and there ; while lower down 

 peep out white, and blue, and lavender, and 

 other modest posies, and everywhere our fa- 

 miliar woods flower the wild geranium, whose 

 office it seems to be in Colorado to fill all va- 

 cancies, much larger and more luxurious than 

 ours, though quite as dainty and as impatient 

 of handling. Almost within reach of our hand 

 we easily count a dozen varieties of blossoms, 

 while at the back of the little field are masses of 

 a tall plant gone to seed. This departed bloom 

 must have resembled our elder in shape and 

 size, and now it makes a wonderful display of 

 seeds in all shades of green, yellow, and golden 

 brown, according to the various degrees of ripe- 

 ness. It is very effective, almost more beauti- 

 ful than blossoms, certainly more harmonious. 



Over all this growing glory butterflies flutter, 

 and bees go hither and thither, and still higher 

 zigzag dozens of dragonflies. Behind us, a few 

 steps away, is the brook Minnelowan, whose 

 musical murmur is in our ears, but we will not 



