GARDEN OF A COMMUTER'S WIFE 269 



instalment of gladiolus bulbs, the other two having 

 been set in middle May and June successively. These 

 I have grouped in close circles of six, so that when 

 ready to bloom in late September they may be tied to 

 a central stake, making a sort of bush instead of hav- 

 ing the military stiffness of single specimens. 



As I leaned back against the tree trunk and 

 looked up through the twigs, where the sun rays 

 fluttered among the leaves, I saw that a new branch, 

 as yet slender and unformed, is springing from the 

 trunk beside the wound left by the limb that was 

 rent in the great snowstorm. To me, the wonder 

 of perpetual renewal is as great as ever. That is the 

 stimulus of nature ; it is never, never old, and always 

 developing. Even the scarred, wrinkled earth herself 

 is a mere infant among the old ladies and gentlemen 

 that tread foot-paths in the sky ; and I dare say that 

 she is frequently rebuked by her sun-mother, for 

 frivolity, besides having to listen to long tales of hap- 

 penings in the good old days when she was an imma- 

 ture, roly-poly fire ball without a rock in her head. 



It is delicious sometimes to do nothing simply for 

 its own sake. As I leaned luxuriantly back and 

 alternately looked down the vista of the long walk 

 toward the sun garden and into the rose arbour, then 

 closing my eyes and merely breathing in fragrance 



