30 An American Fruit-Farm 



funeral, or to meeting! He can farm a lifetime 

 without one. In the Valley, the lake breeze tells 

 when it is four o'clock afternoon, and the clover 

 also marks the hour. No less precise are the 

 shifting of the air-currents at nine in the evening; 

 at three in the morning. The cherry tree is a dial, 

 and the moving shadow of the grape-vine marks 

 off the hours. But these are the finessing of the 

 clock; there are the great divisions of the seasons. 

 Winter begins when the leaves fall and ceases 

 when again they start. Spring begins with the 

 call of the soil and ends with the setting of the fruit 

 on vine and tree. Summer begins with the grow- 

 ing grapes and cherries and ends as they ripen; 

 and autumn — ^briefest of seasons — slips in between 

 the purpling fruit and the leaves rustling at your 

 feet. All in due season. 



And then, there is within the man a mysterious 

 interpreter of the seasons, — ^that instinct which 

 moves him to do and do. By that subtle power 

 he reads the clouds in the sky ; the invisible winds ; 

 the rising and setting of sun, moon, and stars, and 

 the shades and colors on the living earth. It tells 

 him when to plow and to sow; when to cultivate 

 and to harvest; and in following it he does all 

 things in season. 



In planning the fruit-farm we must remember 

 the days. Strawberries ripen in June; grapes and 

 prunes in October. As the fruit-farm is a cycle 

 of the seasons, each arc of the cycle may register 

 its fruit. With care we may have a succession of 



