OUR COUNTRY HOME 



After a rain in October, indeed during it, if possible, the sower 

 with his big bag of grass seed under his arm appears at the end of 

 the pergola and, stepping on to the lawn, slowly crosses it, back 

 and forth, throwing in graceful curves the clouds of fine grass seed, 

 hunting out the brown spots whore the dandelions have flourished 

 and carefully avoiding the mushrooms cropping out in all sorts of 

 unexpected places. Finally the bag is empty, turned inside out 

 with a parting shake, and the old sou'wester and slouch hat dis- 

 appear slowly down the winding path, in search of further work. 



Somehow, few of our guests seem to feel its importance when I 

 announce the great events happening in our daily existence. For 

 instance, when I exclaim, "The small thrushes in the long-path 

 nest sailed out into the world to-day, " or " There are ninety-three 

 blossoms on that one spray of crimson ramblers over the south ter- 

 race wall," or ''The first monkshood opened this morning," our 

 visitors politely answer: "Indeed!" but I can feel their thoughts 

 are wandering. Only a few really enter into our inner joyous 

 eventful life, where each day brings forth a revelation and a miracle. 



