314 



THE NATURE BOOK 



whether spring or summer, autumn 

 or winter, has its own perfect beauty 

 did we but understand and fully realise 

 the charm of those of Nature's sights 

 and sounds that for the time being 

 environ us. 



It is true there is nothing beautiful 

 in the passing of the flowers, " which 

 droop and die most melancholy." But 

 has not autumn her own fair blossoms 

 that e\'en the summer sunshine cannot 

 coax from bud to bloom, that open only 

 when a soft haze veils the blue hea\'ens, 

 and a refreshing dew moistens the parched 

 earth and wizened lea\-es ? Yes, there 

 are lovely flowers that delight in the 

 waning sun, the shortening da3'S and 

 lengthening nights. There are many of 

 them, and it is largely due to their presence 

 that the autumn garden owes its magic 

 charm — a charm as satisfying, as comjilete. 

 as that compelled by the galaxy of glow- 

 ing colour in summer-time. Even if we 

 could have beds and borders gay with 

 .gaudy bloom in autumn, it is unhkely 

 that un.der the gre}' skies and hazy atmo- 

 sphere we should appreciate them. The 

 happiest results in gardening are obtained 

 only when each plant is allowed to blossom 

 in its natural season — to retard summer 

 flowers for the embellishment of the 

 garden in autumn is a certain way to 

 create incongruous effects. At this season 

 how appropriate and how harmonious in 

 Nature's vast colour scheme are the greys 

 and mauves and la\-enders, bronzes and 

 }'ellows — shades that now predominate 

 among garden flowers. The former are 

 in perfect accord with the spirit of autumn 

 that comes clothed in a grey shroud, 

 as though in half-mourning for the showy 

 summer flowers ; while the latter give 

 welcome relief and splashes of appropriate 

 colour in the prevailing sombreness and 

 hazy gloom. But in autumn the garden 

 depends for its charm less, perhaps, on 

 flowers than on lea\-es, for while blossoms 

 fade with an ugliness that is depressing, 

 leaves die a glorious death. It is only 

 in dying that leaves taste to the full 

 the joy of living ; now is the supreme 

 moment of their lives. From a mono- 

 tonous prime they pass to an enchanting 

 old age ; as the spirit of autumn illumines 

 them they come to their fullest beauty. 



Kow wonderful it is that while we 



mourn the Icjss of the summer flowers, 

 the woods and copses, the trees and 

 shrubs are radiant with autumn's glow, 

 which touches them to such beauty as 

 summer ne\-er knew — a beauty that trans- 

 cends the rich colour feast of June blossoms 

 at their best ! How wisely Nature orders 

 the goings of her leaves and flowers ! 

 How perfectly the balance is adjusted ! 

 Even when beds and borders are aglow 

 with brilliant bloom, although one may 

 scarcely realise it. it is nevertheless true 

 that much of their charm is due to the 

 environment of cool green lea\-es, that 

 provide such a perfect setting, such an 

 admirable background to the many tinted 

 flowers. The skilful gardener does not 

 attempt to make a garden of plants 

 that depend for their charm on flowers 

 alone ; he realises the great value of 

 soft-toned leaves, and puts to practical 

 use their infinite variety of form and tint, 

 with the result that a natural garden 

 scene unfolds. 



With the passing of the flowers comes 

 the glory of the leaves. In early autumn 

 the garden glades are an amazing and 

 impressive sight ; from end to end a mass 

 of colour and shades of colour all wo\-en 

 and interwoven in Nature's patterns by 

 her own incomparable skill. The Elm 

 and Oak and Beech, the Birch, queen of 

 the woods, perfect in grace of form and 

 tender colouring, the Rowan, Chestnut 

 and others play their part in the weav- 

 ing of the woodland tapestry ; they make 

 a j)icture whose impression is ineffaceable 

 from memory, serving to bring home to 

 one the inmiital)le fascination of wood 

 and garden when autumn falls. 



" Upon the hazel gray 

 The lyre of autumn hangs unstrung, 

 And o'er its tremulous chords are flung 

 The fringes of decay." 



What depth of wisdom lies in the 

 ordering of so glorious a death lor the 

 leaves ; it is only by comparison with 

 the fading of the flowers that we can 

 realise its majesty, and appreciate the 

 gulf that exists between the beauty of the 

 one and the unlovehness of the other.' 

 Strange that from captivating beauty 

 flowers should fade to ugliness, while 

 from commonjilace monotony leaves die 

 in a splendour that for the time trans- 



