GARDEN PROMISES 



things. The trees even now are whispering that it 

 will soon be Spring, for all they look from a distance 

 like a collection of dried and pressed roots sticking up 

 in the air, how they are drawn in purple ink against 

 the sky ; but one day my eyes will see a faint haze over 

 them as if a little mist hung about them and was caught 

 in the branches, and then they will change so quietly 

 that it is impossible to tell quite when they began to 

 look like very delicate green feathers, and then they 

 will change so suddenly that it is a shock to one's eyes 

 to find them in a full flush of sticky bud and leaf, and 

 one says in accents of delighted surprise, " Why, the 

 trees are out ! " 



Not every one takes pleasure in a garden during the 

 Winter time, many regarding it as a chill and a desolate 

 place in itself, and taking only an interest in the green- 

 houses and the Violet frames; and few would find a 

 pleasure in washing flower-pots by the dozen on a 

 rainy day, and in putting fresh ashes on the paths, and 

 in banking up Celery. But to the keen gardener every 

 inch of work in his garden is full of interest, he realises 

 the daily value of each thing he does, he knows of that 

 great silent work that is going on so near him, and so 

 enjoys even the burnishing of a spade, the rolling of 

 lawns, and loves, as I think every one does, the surgical 

 work of pruning the fruit trees. 



Then, when the promise is fulfilled, and the world 

 is full of green and colour, the wondrous alchemy of the 

 Winter months shows its result in the glorious painting 

 of the flowers of Spring and Summer. 



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