the sea. But I love them now for a finer reason, 

 which dates from the ripening of the seed of the 

 earlier flowers. With the first seed came the gold- 

 finches, who darted and poised on the blue-tipped 

 cernuous branches, chirping and feasting while they 

 unconsciously made part of a poem of blue, green, 

 gold and black. 



I bordered all my rose garden with old-fashioned 

 Scotch pinks, because my mother's garden had them, 

 and because their leaf tone harmonizes with every 

 rose color. But they have become glorified since I've 

 found their lover to be the ruby-throated humming 

 bird. He also loves the nasturtiums which garland 

 the porch, and the morning glories which cover the 

 trunk of a tall dead cedar ; but if I really want to have 

 a long opportunity for studying this miracle of 

 beauty and motion, I take a small stool and sit for an 

 hour half hidden among the pinks. 



One of the most ecstatic, breathless moments of 

 my life was when a humming bird sat to rest on a 

 rose branch within two inches of my hand. 



The cedars bring cheer to the garden in winter 

 and they add mystery at night ; then when their blue 

 berries ripen they may bring us an unexpected visit 



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