152 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



in Golden Gate Park, reflecting the setting sun slipping 

 low in the blue waters of the rolling Pacific. 



What other flower can boast an ancestry traced to the 

 courts of Helios, what other has as charming a legend for 

 its heritage as that of Clytie, whose adoring face is ever 

 turned toward her god in the sun chariot? 



Whenever we walk abroad in the fresh morning air, or 

 rest in the cool of the evening, the tall sunflowers are 

 looking down at us from the other side of the fence. 

 Fancy paints a curious face behind the powdered gold 

 mask set in a fringe of radiant yellow which seems to be 

 hammered out of pure gold. And if one steals around 

 the back way to examine the sturdy plants garmented in 

 abundant foliage, the uncanny superstition grows, and 

 they appear to be some gallant grenadiers of flowerdom 

 appointed to report for duty. 



Another of the many queer traits of human nature is 

 that which leads us to overlook the good common things 

 and to hunt for the rare and unusual. Many an hour 

 have we nursed a garden plant that refused to be recon- 

 ciled to our earth and care, while, if we had been content 

 to give our energy to native plants that would grow, we 

 should have had an enviable spectacle of bloom from 

 spring to autumn. 



And with this is the reflection that many a time have 

 we spent our strength in pursuit of false gods, of idle 

 friendships, of superficial amusements, when the right 



