THE DANDELION 6i 



lawn must have been made for suffering. The flower 

 soon changes into the round, airy " seven-he-loves," 

 and then the passing breeze or the play of children 

 (of any age) scatters the seed on its way to new 

 victories over the defences of the grass. The Dan- 

 delion's life is a perpetual spring. Throughout the 

 advancing summer it expands and glows with all the 

 intensity of the opening season. And when the leaves 

 have withered and the grass is weakening with its own 

 weight, when the root-leaves of next season's flowers 

 are tracing their distinctive patterns on the ground, 

 the briUiant rosettes of the Dandelion come out 

 with all the rich warmth of early spring. There is 

 a happy informality about this appearance in late 

 autumn that makes it doubly welcome. Through 

 the winter the root-leaves survive under the snow, 

 an earnest of complete and perfect naturalisation, and 

 a happy solution of the problem of perpetual life. 



