The Book of Grasses 



"grass," may contain many different species of this vast family, 

 species which at a second glance are seen to have each their own 

 distinguishing features. 



Like charity the study of grasses may begin at home, and, Hke 

 charity also, this most fascinating of nature studies may be carried 

 far afield, for the grasses, most numerous of all flowering plants, we 

 have always with us. Tree-like in the tropics the Bamboos, largest 

 of the grass family, lift their blossoms one hundred feet and more 

 toward the sky; in cold countries moss-like grasses cringe and cling 

 to the frozen ground, and through the temperate regions of the 

 globe grasses grow in luxuriance of form and colouring and 

 supply a background of green against which the world of trees 

 and rivers, of brooks and ledges, is placed on colours ever chang- 

 ing, and ever perfect. Nature is continually busy reclaiming the 

 unsightly places abandoned by man, covering with a garment of 

 green the hillsides torn by rain, and carpeting with her "matted 

 miracles of grass" the humble waysides. 



The traditional spirit of the seasons is symbolized by outdoor 

 colouring: cool, pale tints of early spring, rose-colour of June, warm 

 tones of August fields, and a glory of purple and gold when the 

 summer is past and the harvest ending. In all this continuity 

 of change, which keeps the face of Nature so new in its world-old 

 familiarity, the grasses bear their part, and as the violet and wild 

 geranium of spring give place to midsummer hardback, which in 

 turn is pushed aside by goldenrod and asters, so the passing 

 months bring fresh grasses into bloom and mark the calendar of 

 the year by the flowering of these common plants. 

 It still is true, however, that 



"The wodd misprizes the too-freely offered 

 And rates the earth and sky but carelessly." 



The dandelion is less honoured than the arbutus, yet even the 

 dandelion receives greater honour than do the early grasses, which 

 aid in changing earth's wintry shroud to living green. Grasses 

 yield us the earliest intimations of spring, as a faint flush of green, 

 in harmony with the soft colours of April woods, tinges the brown 

 hillsides before snows have ceased. The first grasses are more 

 delicately coloured than are those of midsummer when the sun 

 burns red and purple into the tiny flowers. The green spikelets 



