52 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



glory of autumn! When, behold, as if Nemesis heark- 

 ened, a little cloud appears in the azure sky, there is a 

 flash of lightning, and the storm riots overhead, the gale 

 rushing down to play havoc among our treasured posses- 

 sions, while the rain falls in torrents. 



Creatures of fate that we are, it is folly to make com- 

 plaint, and naught abides but hope, looking for sunshine 

 in the sweet uses of adversity. And then comes the morn- 

 ing after, and if we are not blinded by stubbornness we 

 must rejoice in the splendid greens of rain-washed lawns 

 and the exultant rustle of the refreshed trees. 



"Let patience have its perfect work," echoes the old 

 phrase of wisdom, written by one who had not burned 

 with a passion for gardens nor felt the smarts of disap- 

 pointment. Yet what is there to do but to lean over the 

 garden fence, and observe that our neighbors have fared 

 alike*? All must wait for things to dry, the pools to dis- 

 appear, and true hills of sweet peas and the borders of 

 annuals to take on a natural aspect. 



A warm May day is ideal weather; and, as we watch, 

 the hardy primroses seem to shake their leaves and to 

 turn their frilled caps to the sky, the pansies smooth out 

 their wrinkles, and forget-me-nots and arabis look as fresh 

 as if nature had touched them up with a paintbrush. It 

 we had our way there would be no spring thunder gusts, 

 but the weather scheme takes into account the delights of 

 surprises, and now in this, the day after, we discover that 



