ET IN ARCADIA FUISTI 95 



"fleet the time carelessly as in the golden world" of girl- 

 hood tiny boys and girls clamored for the hours, and 

 gardening minutes were uncertain. 



And so it came about that the shrub plantation trans- 

 formed the little villa the year around, making it seem 

 the haunt of a sleeping beauty in the wood, protected 

 from the public road by a hedge of Japanese barberry, 

 ever beautiful from budding time until the birds had 

 nipped the last berry of the scarlet fringe that hung over 

 the snowdrifts. A warm spell in April was sure to hang 

 out the signals of gold on the forsythia massed together 

 in a corner, and they have scarcely faded before the 

 peach and the redbud trees shed the blushes of the rose 

 on the other side of the house, where the children are 

 hunting for violets in the grass. 



After that, the long procession of lilacs, purple and 

 white, between the neighbor's driveway and the lawn, 

 begins to open clusters of bloom, and brings the walkers 

 of a Sunday afternoon from far and near to sniff their 

 sweetness at a distance and to look with longing eyes on 

 the Japanese quince painting a bright spot of sea-shell 

 red against the gray of stone foundations, or the rosy 

 loveliness of the flowering almond that becomes visible 

 on the other side of the porch as one goes on. In May 

 the bush honeysuckle sheltering the kitchen door with 

 jealous care is in bloom, and the snowballs loom up like 

 ghosts in the twilight when you chance to pass that way. 



