THE SECOND SUMMER 



THERE are, as the flowers tell us very well, more 

 than four seasons of the year. Not perhaps so many 

 as twelve, but after autumn and winter, say, two 

 springs and two summers. In February begins the 

 spring of the colt's-foot, the blackthorn, the daffodil. 

 In April comes the extravagance of primroses, haw- 

 thorn, and bluebells, with the exquisite pinking and 

 snowing of the orchards and the decking of the 

 garden with laburnum, lilac, and, lastly, rhododendron. 

 Let June and July be devoted to the rose alone, 

 though she is queen over an almost countless court. 

 But possibly our gardeners have done her a dis- 

 service by prolonging her bloom into August and 

 September, which have blooms of their own more 

 distinctive than the flora of nearly every other 

 season. 



There is a deliberateness and a grandeur, a mellow- 

 ness and a completeness about the early autumn 

 flowers that do not belong to the others. The colt's- 

 foot and the garden Petasites are in such a hurry to 

 bloom that they come up all flowers and no leaves. 

 Crocus, daffodil, tulip, and hyacinth show you the 

 blossoms they intend to open, as soon as the leaves 

 with which they will make blossoms for another year. 

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