Studies in Yellow 
and to the water-horehound, whose long runners dangle 
picturesquely in the air, if its lodging happens to be, as it 
often is, on the perpendicular side of a post. So, after 
their long day of homely labor, Nature gives the old 
hulks a crown of posies that she renews year after year, 
and will renew until the last wreck of them is gone. 
May 28. —Now and then Nature dearly loves to paint 
the world bright yellow. Just now, besides the ubiquitous 
buttercups and dandelions, there is an especially fine crop of 
yellow rocket or wild mustard blossoming in the meadows 
in patches so thick and broad that the grass where the 
flower grows is quite hidden. In the Old World this 
common wayside weed is sometimes called St. Barbara’s 
herb, presumably because the day of that saint occurs in 
December, when the plant is frequently gathered for 
winter salad. The root leaves are usually found alive 
throughout cold weather, and, like all the mustard tribe, 
are hot to the taste. To an American palate they make 
but a poor apology for a salad, however. Much pleasanter 
is our native wild peppergrass, whose little, flat, round 
seed-vessels are already maturing on plants not yet en¬ 
tirely out of flower. To pick a bunch and munch the 
green pods as you walk is to have your whole being 
brightened. They bite the tongue and exhilarate the brain, 
bracing up your physical system just as your sluggish soul 
is sometimes benefited by a good “talking to” from some 
plain-spoken, clear-sighted friend. 
[51] 
