158 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



nasturtium pods for her pickles, and the gardener had 

 marked the best colors and the most perfect flowers in 

 all the borders either with a tag or gay yarn whose hue 

 has a meaning for him, or with a bit of wire and bam- 

 boo on which is written what he does not remember. 



In the cool of his sanctum on a hot afternoon he marks 

 a hundred little envelopes and fits them in a box, for it is 

 right to do everything in order, and the card-catalogue 

 system is the best for seeds as well as for cooking recipes 

 and many another thing. 



All seems to be going well on the eve before the day 

 of seed collecting, to which a favorite neighbor has been 

 invited; for surely there is enough for many. It is prob- 

 able that the gamut of splendid color run by the Mexican 

 zinnias has not missed a note in its scale in ripening seeds, 

 and the pansies were never in better shape, the poppies 

 have formed shapely pepper boxes, the sweet Williams 

 and pinks have filled their goblets, and the balloon vine 

 and Chinese lantern hang their fruits from the wire 

 netting. 



It is true we missed the columbine seeds in the wind 

 that shook them from their cups on a stormy night in 

 June; and, before we forget it, a search should be made 

 for the lady's paintbrush that the children begged for 

 and could its fate be a hint of what came after*? On a 

 pincushion top tilted a single seed, which sailed away on 

 its own parachute while we watched it. 



