In the middle break in our Wilderness — the Inter- 

 mezzo, so to speak — we have made a great irregular 

 mass of dozens of goldenrod, dozens of- wild purple 

 asters, sneeze-weeds, black-eyed Susans and ferns, 

 with a border of hepatica for early spring praise. 

 It is our greatest gardening achievement. Purple 

 and gold, gold and purple — even the words are 

 magical. 



With the blue-green pines before and behind, the 

 blue sky overhead, and the green grass and pine- 

 needled ground leading up to the purple and gold, 

 it is sheer poetry. 



Then take the bank near it, sloping from pine, 

 birch and poplars down to the country road, what 

 more appropriate flower for this spot than the dande- 

 lion? Pick a dandelion reverently, study" it care- 

 fully — was there ever greater perfection of form, 

 more embodied sunlight.'' In its ghost stage it 

 reaches the spiritual. 



Walk through a shadow-dim forest and arrive sud- 

 denly upon a clump of blooming rhododendron, it 

 takes the breath away with its unpremeditated won- 

 der. That is the element we need to achieve througl|- 

 out all our garden, the unexpected. A dear old lady 

 trailed after me through our Wilderness and after 



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