IRatuve IRotes : 
^Tbc Selbovne Society’s flDagastne. 
No. 96. DECEMBER, 1897. Vol. VIII. 
A COUNTRY GARDEN IN WINTER. 
ttWSTJ O people who live in towns a country garden in winter 
is suggestive of unutterable dreariness. A garden is, 
they allow, endurable in summer, though even then it 
gets unconscionably dull after a time. Still, when the 
flowers are in full bloom and the trees in leaf, a garden is 
undeniably pretty, and aided by tennis parties and a plentiful 
supply of fiction from Mudie’s, one may find it very pleasant for 
a fortnight or so, provided the weather be fine — for if rain should 
set in there is nothing for it but to take the first train back to 
town. But in winter — ugh, the very idea makes one shudder ! 
Can a garden possibly be a source of pleasure in winter — when 
the trees are bare, the grass lank and sodden, and the flower- 
beds empty of everything but decayed stumps and withered 
leaves ? Would any sensible person even glance at a garden 
under such circumstances, or in fact stay in the country at all, 
unless it w^ere for hunting or shooting ? 
Now to all who are of this opinion we must oppose a polite 
but firm denial. He who cannot enjoy a garden in winter never 
really appreciated it in summer. He was content to loll in an 
easy chair on the lawn, or stroll aimlessly down the paths, 
smoking his pipe or picking a flower here and there. He never 
explored the hidden beauties of the garden, never noted the 
gradual expansion of the buds, or learnt to distinguish between 
the notes of different birds, and the markings of various flowers. 
He did not take off his coat and work with spade and hoe — did 
not experience the pleasure of clearing away unsightly weeds, 
tying up drooping stems, or cutting off dead blossoms. He 
never rose early and saw the garden in its dawning beauty, 
when the roses were bathed in dew, and the cobwebs were 
