102 A BUSH CALENDAR 



some of their sweetness, and the smell of spring is everywhere. 

 To-day as I walked along the sandy track on the top of the 

 ridge, every sense responded to the fascinations of the season, 

 and my eyes and ears and nose were all keenly awake to the 

 delights around me. Almost before I had passed the last 

 houses on the road I was greeted by the nutty fragrance of the 

 sweet-scented wattle, and my eyes were prepared for the masses 

 of soft cream blossom which shone through the bushes on every 

 side. This wattle, which is truly a winter flower, is at its very 

 best just now, and most of its crumpled buds have unfolded. 

 But close by I found another wattle which has not yet passed 

 the fascinating stage the small bushes of the myrtle-leafed 

 wattle are warmly red with their richly-coloured stalks and 

 red-tinged buds. It is not one of the most conspicuous bloom- 

 ers, but in its early stage it has a charm of its own. But then, 

 isn't there a special charm about all buds ? They hold the 

 poetry of the future folded in their tiny sheaths, and a joy of 

 expectancy that no fulfilment of opened flower can surpass. 

 All the wonder of the springtime is hidden in the bud of a 

 waiting flower ; and when you come on millions of them at 

 once well, you just hold your breath and give yourself over 

 to the marvel. 



To the right of the track where the ridge slopes down to 

 the distant harbour, the white-beard buds spread in a thick 

 carpet ; in a few weeks it will be a fragrant white plot, but 

 the woolly white sides are still hidden, and only the rosy 



