24TH FEBRUARY. 



WE HAVE had weeks and weeks of blazing sunshine and hot 

 drying winds no rain for about three months. The garden 

 looks sad indeed. My tallest Silver Tree (Leucadendron argen- 

 teum) has given up the struggle and young leucospermums 

 here and there are dead and brown. Each night and morning 

 sees a mighty battle whose weapons of offence are watering- 

 cans, tins, buckets, and streams of irrigation water. The 

 cuttings in the frame, though shaded and watered, fail one by 

 one ; but seedlings nourish. There are tins of Gerbera, Eryth- 

 rina, Bauhinia, Kniphofia, Aitonta, etc., which all look thoroughly 

 happy at my expense, like well-fed cuckoos in robins' nests. 



The coloured boys take the opportunity to try out every 

 trick to save themselves from doing any work, or they steal 

 grapes to make must and become so outrageous that one must 

 perforce dismiss them. 



The hillsides are bare and dry : there is no feed for the goats. 

 Every day we study the weather-glass and say : " It must 

 rain soon". 



The work with the bulbs goes on. Most of the beds of 

 flowering-sized bulbs have been taken up, the big ones sold and 

 the small ones kept for re-planting. Except where the moles 

 have cleared the beds, they are very good indeed this season ; 

 and they are badly needed. Never has there been such a 

 demand for bulbs, for even South Africans are beginning to 

 appreciate the native plants. 



We sit for hours on end sifting out the tiny bulbs. The 

 ground is so hot that one must sit on a sack ; and one learns the 

 advantage of a trowel with a wooden handle. I have two young 

 coloured boys to help me, one very young. He looks about 

 nine, he talks without ceasing, words pour from him for three 

 solid hours without a break. Sometimes his narrative becomes 

 wildly exciting ; he demonstrates with arms and legs, and 

 bulbs fly around ; then I have to do the heavy, and all is 

 quiet for a while, but it soon starts up again. Apparently his 

 audience of one makes never a sound, and seems to take very 



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