62 Next to the Ground 



long, in the effort to escape from shade. Upon 

 rainy days they either close or droop, and stand 

 patterns of sad-colored constancy, in wait for 

 their liege. But the big staring blooms, dahlias, 

 sunflowers, zinnias, and late hollyhocks, rejoice 

 in a moderate downpour and after it laugh out 

 in new beauty. August freshets wash out and 

 beat down even the hardiest blowth. 



Roses bloom through the ragged month, but 

 languidly, after the manner of fretful fine ladies 

 impelled solely by the obligation of nobility. 

 It is an ephemeral blooming — fresh one morn- 

 ing, faded and falling the next. But what 

 would you have ? The bushes are ripening 

 new wood, striking new and stronger roots 

 that the late autumn blooming shall be richer 

 and more perfect than even the roses of May. 



The orchards have their own ragged story, 

 told by rifled boughs, and bent and broken ones. 

 Stripped peach boughs in particular, are ragged 

 to the point of desolation. Peaches ripen 

 quickly, once the time of ripeness comes, and 

 only a few among them — the old seedling 

 sorts — hang long after ripening. To taste 

 a perfect peach you must eat one that has 

 fallen of its own ripeness from a high sunlit 

 bough where the free winds played over it, 

 yet where it had a due and proper shade. The 

 sunny side of a peach is always juiciest and 

 of the finest flavor — still sun-baking makes 



