14 
NATURE NOTES 
note is struck in the blossoming time, when we see Autumn, 
in sweet youth, bowing beneath her bridal veil. 
A poet, when singing of Winter’s beauty, surely unduly sup- 
presses Spring’s sweetness when he speaks of her as “ a fickle 
mistress, who does not know her own mind, or is so long in 
making it up, whether you shall have her or not, that one gets 
tired at last of her pretty sniffs and reconciliations. You go to 
her to be cheered up a bit, and, ten to one, catch her in the sulks, 
expecting you to find good humour for both.” Surely libellous 
words ! One cannot so easily suppress her balmy airs. Even the 
grey old churchyards forget their solemnity in smiles. Crowds 
of golden daffodils dance, full of living, breathing life. O’er 
the graves of the breathless dead they laugh in face of the grim 
old fir-trees, who stand by, looking down upon the winsome 
ways of such a youthful throng. 
Summer is a simple joy in being, a silent pause. Nature’s 
music has reached the highest strain. The musician’s hand 
raised high from off the keys, ponders, that we may dwell awhile 
in the silent fulness. ’Tis golden, golden everywhere, glowing, 
glowing all the day. We bask. All things bask. And from the 
earth comes the murmur of myriads of tiny heart-beats — that 
song of abundant life. If “ music is charming because it touches 
the intangible,” surely the long pause of Summer silence is 
enchanting, because it sounds the silent music of musical tumult 
at rest. Such joy there is in each day’s breathing of life. Not 
only in the earth beneath do we feel the life unseen, but 
the very air vibrates with the rippling rapturous laughter of 
myriads of invisible spirits. To every human being it is the 
moment of intensest intimacy with Nature. When looking upon 
her countenance with the eyes of love, one looks not only upon 
the outward face and form, but deep deep, down into the soul 
of her. Summer is the passion-strained moment of our Nature 
love. A time when we never tire tracing every line of beauty 
in the beloved’s face, each evanescent curve now visible in 
light, now lost in gloom — the blue gloom of sunshine’s shadows. 
The flower-strewn earth is aglow with colour, glowing in 
responsive shining to the warm touch of sunlight. 
It is almost imperceptibly we glide into the minor key of 
Autumn — “ grey Autumn,” generous Autumn, with arms all 
full with rich rare gifts, gifts of fruit, gifts of colour, generous 
in daily lengthening shadows, cooling rains, soft low winds, 
which play the oft-recurring accompanying note throughout the 
season of parting. Rosy apples glow upon the branches ; leaves 
are dipped in sunset dyes : sunflowers bow their heads in fare- 
well to the sunlight. “ Good-bye,” “ good-bye” is echoed from 
flower to flower, from leaf to leaf. Ripened cornfields bend 
before the breathing of the wind, as she whispers in passing her 
last “ farewell.” Here and everywhere" Summer smiles through 
parting tears.” 
And Winter sleeps. All the thoughts of the year lie in secret. 
