A HQME VEGETABLE-GARDEN 



grance. Farther down the path are sweet williams 

 and harebells and spicy grass pinks and forget- 

 me-nots. At its time of bloom, the long broad 

 row of lemon lilies floods the flower strip with 

 its golden fragrance. The old-time roses of gen- 

 erations gone by are rich with blossoms in their 

 turn. Early in the spring, the little "star of 

 Bethlehem" shines pure white the whole length 

 of the grass-grown walk. There are "pineys" of 

 the old days and the hollyhocks so rich and tall. 

 Most of the flowers our grandmothers loved make 

 beautiful the flower strip between the house and 

 the garden plot; and every morning, the whole 

 season through, some flower has a message in color 

 and fragrance. I own all the flowers in the gar- 

 den and they all bloom for me. 



Always the robins, my robins, are waiting for 

 me. They follow my hoe and watch for the worms 

 and the bugs as I work. The goldfinches sing to 

 me early and late, as they make their dipping flight 

 from the garden border to the orchard beyond. 

 There in the high old trees, the flicker calls to his 

 mate. Close at hand, in the nearest tree, the cat- 

 bird scolds. The song sparrow builds her nest 

 in a low raspberry bush. Then, while she tends 

 the home, her mate sits on the orchard fence and 

 sings and sings and sings. I own all the birds in 

 my garden and they all sing for me. 



I grow beets and beans and carrots and corn. 

 Of course, I work hard and tend them with care 



