SEPTEMBER 



There is one flower which it is not necessary to go further 

 than the train window to see, and that is the hardenbergia. Just 

 at present it is wrapping all the cuttings in its regal coat of 

 purple ; it streams over the red clay, creeps through the green 

 grass, clambers over old logs and fences, and even climbs into 

 the branches of small trees. Sometimes it is accompanied by 

 its less conspicuous friend, the tecoma, that creeper with creamy 

 red-spotted bells, which make soft masses of bloom over fences 

 and tree trunks. The white wax stars of the wild clematis 

 also shine out of the grass of the railway embankments, or fes- 

 toon with bridal wreaths the tree trunks in the brush. 



It is, indeed, a time of sweetness 

 in sight and scent and sound. The 

 air is everywhere fragrant with per- 

 fume, the eyes are gladdened on 

 every side by gorgeous blossoms, 

 and as for the sounds the world is 

 full of them. It is quite impossible 

 to sleep these mornings, for at 

 daybreak begins the bird chorus, 

 led always by the Jacky Winter, 

 whose " peter, peter, peter," is the 

 first bird note to greet the morn. 

 Even through the night the birds are 

 not silent. Last night I heard two 

 cuckoos calling all through the hours 



CLEMATIS 



