FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 



raises his arms above his shoulders, and the slender 

 boughs became set with green buds. At a distance the 

 corn is easily distinguished from the meadows beside it 

 by the different shade of green ; grass is a deep green, 

 corn appears paler and yet brighter perhaps the long 

 winter has given it the least touch of yellow. Daisies 

 are up at last very late indeed. Big humble-bees, 

 grey striped, enter the garden and drone round the 

 banks, searching everywhere for a fit hole in which to 

 begin the nest. It is pleasant to hear them ; after the 

 dreary silence the old familiar burr-rr is very welcome. 

 Spotted orchis leaves are up, and the palm-willow bears 

 its yellow pollen. Happily, the wild anemones will not 

 bear the journey to London, they wither too soon ; else 

 they would probably be torn up like the violets. Neither 

 is there any demand for the white barren strawberry 

 blossom, or the purplish ground-ivy among the finely 

 marked fern moss. 



The rain falls ; and in the copses of the valley, deep 

 and moist, where grey lichen droops from the boughs, 

 the thrushes sing all day so delighted are they to have 

 the earth soft again, and so busy with the nesting. At 

 four o'clock in the morning the larks begin to sing : they 

 will be half an hour earlier next month, adjusting their 

 time nicely by the rising of the sun. They sing on till 

 after the lamps are lit in the evening. Far back in the 

 snow-time a pair of wagtails used to come several times 

 a day close to the windows, their black markings show- 

 ing up singularly well against the snow on the ground. 

 They seemed to have just arrived. But now the weather 

 is open and food plentiful they have left us. The wag- 

 tails appear to be the first of the migrant birds to return, 

 long before the hail of April rattles against the windows 

 and leaps up in the short grass. Out in the hop-gardens 

 the poles are placed ready for setting, in conical heaps 



