164 NATURE NEAR LONDON. 



The sharp relentless shrike that used to live by the 

 copse moved up here, and from that very hornbeam 

 perpetually darted across the road upon insects in 

 the fern and furze opposite. He never entered the 

 orchard; it is often noticed that birds (and beasts 

 of prey) do not touch creatures that build near their 

 own nests. Several thrushes reside in the orchard; 

 swallows frequently twittered from the tops of the 

 apple-trees. As the grass is so safe from intrusion 

 one of the earliest buttercups flowers here. Bennets 

 — the flower of the grass — come up ; the first bennet 

 is to green things what the first swallow is to the 

 breathing creatures of summer. 



On a bare bough, but lately scourged by the east 

 wind, the apple bloom appears, set about with the 

 green of the hedges and the dark spruce behind. 

 White horse-chestnut blooms stand up in their 

 stately way, lighting the path which is strewn with 

 the green moss-like flowers fallen from the oaks. 

 There is an early bush of May. When the young 

 apples take form and shape the grass is so high even 

 the buttercups are overtopped by it. Along the edge 

 of the roadside footpath, where the dandehons, 

 plantains, and grasses are thick with seed, the green- 

 finches come down and feed. 



Now the apples are red that are left, and they hang 

 on boughs from which the leaves are blown by every 

 gust. But it does not matter when you pass, summer 

 or autumn, this little orchard has always something 

 to offer. It is not neglected — it is true attention to 

 leave it to itself. 



Left to itself, so that the grass reaches its fullest 



