MIDWINTER GARDENS 



kept in repair from generation to generation, 

 like the house's plumbing or roof, or like some 

 green-uniformed pet regiment with ranks yet 

 full after the last of its first members has per- 

 ished. 



Furthermore, along the inner side of this 

 green hedge (sometimes close against it, some- 

 times with a turfed alley between), as well as 

 all round about the house, extend borders of de- 

 ciduous shrubs, with such meandering boundaries 

 next the broad white lawn as the present writer, 

 for this time, has probably extolled enough. 

 These bare, gray shrub masses are not wholly 

 bare or gray and have other and most pleas- 

 ingly visible advantages over unplanted, pallid 

 vacancy, others besides the mere lace-work of 

 their twigs and the occasional tenderness of a 

 last summer's bird's nest. Here and there, 

 breaking the cold monotone, a bush of moose 

 maple shows the white-streaked green of its 

 bare stems and sprays, or cornus or willow gives 

 a soft glow of red, purple or yellow. Only 

 here and there, insists my dream, lest when 

 winter at length gives way to the **rosy time 



189 



