Flowering of the Pines 
April 26.—The early mosquito is up and looking about 
him, adding his minstrelsy to the songs of the sparrows 
and the peeping of the marsh frogs. In spite of popular 
belief to the contrary, he is a strict vegetarian and though 
it sounds ungallant to say so, it is the ladies of his party— 
his wife and female relatives—that bite people and sip 
their blood. As a matter of fact, the male mosquito is a 
most peaceable fellow—if the men who write natural 
history are to be believed—and lives exclusively on an 
Arcadian fare of plant juices. 
April 28.—One of the pleasures of April is to go tc 
the woods and see the pine trees in blossom. There is 
nothing showy about a pine blossom; in fact, it is so 
small and so destitute of all that goes to make up a flower 
in the popular estimation, that a careless observer might 
look at a tree in full bloom and not realize its condition. 
Yet, to lover eyes the pine then is enhaloed with a tender 
glory that once seen is not soon forgotten. The flowers 
are of the simplest pattern, without corolla, and of two 
sexes—the males, whose number is legion, being set in 
clustered, light yellow or purplish catkins among the 
leaves near the branch tips, and the females, which are 
much less numerous, not far distant from them. These 
latter may be recognized by their resemblance to little 
brushes with stubby cream-colored bristles. They develop 
in two years into the mature cones with which everybody 
is familiar. The male blossoms discharge an incredible 
quantity of yellow pollen, which sometimes is caught up 
by the wind and carried great distances, to descend in 
sulphur showers and make a news-note in the papers. 
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