The Wild Carrot 
from over the water, has long since worn out its welcome 
and been relegated to the social degradation of a weed. 
Nevertheless, it has its beauties, and now is the time to 
enjoy them, for the flowers are expanding along all the 
waysides. The tiny white blossoms are grouped in round 
flat disks, which are supported by scores of slender green 
rays springing from a common point below, like the ribs 
of an expanded umbrella. These level tops of bloom have 
all the delicacy of lacework, and have doubtless suggested 
the name of Queen Anne’s lace by which the plant is 
sometimes known. With seed time comes a transforma¬ 
tion; then the head assumes a bowl-like shape and grows 
somewhat to resemble a bird’s nest, so “bird’s nest” is 
another common name that has gained some currency. 
The delicately cut leaves of the wild carrot are as grace¬ 
ful as fern fronds, and it is said that in the reign of 
Charles I ladies were in the habit of wearing the foliage 
by way of ornament. 
A curious feature of the wild carrot bloom is that 
the center of the flower head is generally marked by the 
presence of one blood-red floret, turning black eventually 
and producing no good seed—the black sheep of the fam¬ 
ily. Another thing one is apt to find in the flower tops 
is an assortment more or less varied of insects—usually 
sluggish, beetle-like bugs, with their heads buried amid 
the flowers and their hind legs toward the outer world. 
What they find to interest them there is by no means 
apparent, as they are, as a rule, quite motionless. Per¬ 
haps they are philosophers of their race, who retire hither 
for meditation and to gain strength against their next 
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