NUTS. 163 



progress of the nuts ; and as we stand among 

 the bushes our memory carries us back to the 

 early days of March. Then the pendulous 

 catkins swung in the breeze, and wafted their 

 golden pollen broadcast. Nature is prolific in 

 her waste, and here was a capital instance. 

 The almost microscopic red female flowers 

 started from beneath the scales of the buds, 

 and were admirably adapted for retaining the 

 fertilizing pollen. Their slender pink filaments 

 were covered with a viscid substance, and when- 

 ever the bright yellow dust shook against them 

 it was held fast. 



But as March blustered through her moon, 

 the sun gained in power, the snow began to 

 melt from off the fields, and patches of green 

 came through. Then were only white lines 

 along the fences. The Throstles burst into song ; 

 the anemone lifted her frail form ; even the pale 

 primrose peeped from beneath last year's dead 

 leaves. And one morning as I walked through 

 the woods a trio of willow wrens told me very 

 plaintively, and very prettily, that if I pleased, 

 spring had really come. As though to confirm 

 what the birds told me, the field-workers began 

 to turn up the warm, brown land, and a few 



