HAILING FAR SUMMER 373 



straggling survivals of the past summer. Red and white 

 dead nettles still bloom on strips of waste ground and by the 

 ditches ; creeping speedwell opens its blue eyes on heaps of 

 earth and rubbish and undisturbed garden-beds where chick- 

 weed keeps a few dull white blossoms stained by frost and 

 rain. Dandelions put out tarnished and half-closed blossoms 

 from among the old coarse leaves, which die away to give 

 place to the tender blades of spring. The common gorse 

 and the daisy flower in winter in a more occasional and 

 spasmodic way than the primrose, but with a fresher and 

 more vigorous growth than the bygone summer's weeds. 

 By the end of November the orange-yellow blossom of the 

 dwarf autumn gorse has faded ; but from that time onwards 

 sprays of the taller common gorse can be found in bloom 

 here and there, until the approach of spring gradually sets 

 it blossoming far and wide. It does not reach the height 

 of its flower-time until May. Daisies bloom on in much 

 the same irregular way, until April sprinkles them every- 

 where. 



It does not need actual blossom to give a sense of life 

 and promise to the hedges and woods in February. In 

 every mild corner spears and tufts of verdure are thrusting 

 and unfolding to the west wind's caressing touch ; they are 

 vivid with the luxuriance of spring. Furled arum leaves 

 wax and widen daily above the leaf-mould in the hedge- 

 bottoms and on the floor of the copses ; they and the spikes 

 formed by the young bluebell leaves before they fall apart 

 have the firmest and most lustrous texture of all the green 

 things swelling towards spring. Pushing bluebell spikes 

 will pierce a dry oak or beech leaf which obstructs them, 

 and rise with it girdling their middle ; sometimes they poke 

 their head into a nut gnawed by a dormouse or squirrel, 

 and lift it several inches into the air. It is fascinating to 



