116 



THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 



Flying squirrels were more worth while, because 

 there were none on the farm. Now, however, I deter- 

 mined to cultivate the acquaintance of Chipmunk, 

 for there might he other discoveries awaiting me. 

 And there were. 



A narrow strip of grass separated the orchard and 

 my garden-patch. It was on my way to the garden 

 /that I most often stopped to watch this chipmunk, 

 \or rather the pair of them, in the orchard wall. June 

 y advanced, the beetles disappeared, and the two chip- 

 j munks in the wall were now seven, the young ones 

 almost as large as their parents, and both young and 

 / old on the best of terms with me. 



For the first time in four years there were pros- 

 f pects of good strawberries. Most of my small patch 



was given over to a new variety, one that I had 



^originated; and I was waiting with an eagerness 

 | which was almost anxiety for the earliest berries. 

 / I had put a little stick beside each of the three 



* big berries that were reddening first (though I could 

 $ have walked from the house blindfolded and picked 

 'Uhem). I might have had the biggest of the three on 

 'I June 7th, but for the sake of the flavor I thought 

 j it best to wait another day. On the 8th I went 

 ;down to get it. The big berry was gone, and so was 

 > one of the others, while only half of the third was 

 ; * left on the vine ! 



Gardening has its disappointments, its seasons of 

 , despair and wrath, too. Had a toad showed him- 



- -, / - ? ...,..-- - ; \ v .- - - 



