14 The Strife of March 



thick March snow, to snatch the berries from the 

 same trusty bush, balancing upon its shaking head 

 with unfamiliar labour. Many seasons may pass, 

 and the provisions of nature seem useless for the 

 purposes of her children ; but the rare year comes 

 at last when the activity that seemed purposeless 

 is fitted to its ancient need. 



The full thaw comes at last in a flood of mild air 

 from the south-west that sweeps away the tints of 

 sullied opal from the noonday sky and relaxes the 

 sere prints of the landscape. The earth repeats 

 again the passing of its glacial age. The ice-crusts 

 vanish from the bank-sides and the northward 

 corners of the fields, leaving a bleached and withered 

 carpet of grass and moss which expands, almost 

 hour by hour, into new colour and vigour. Damp 

 stains break out in the roadways, where the thaw 

 sets free the icy particles mingled with the dust. As 

 the frost melts out of the soil, and is succeeded by 

 the mild, evaporating winds, the turf in the pastures 

 becomes springy and the ploughed land plastic and 

 clean. Along the southward hedge-banks, where 

 the power of the noonday sun has for weeks been 

 strongest, the scent of the new grass comes blowing 

 in gentle puffs. The whole air is full of that subtle 

 fragrance of the earlier days of spring which seems 

 breathed from still leafless branches and naked soil, 

 and to be more than half some quickening essence 

 in the wind. The black gnats dance in troops under 

 the thawing hedgerows, recalling the full heat and 

 insect mazes of July. Even in the heart of the frosts 

 the noonday sun would wake them to dance over the 



