SUMMER 
“The swallow! summer comes again,” writes 
the poet Shelley, identifying one of the dearest 
of birds with one of the sweetest of seasons. 
It is said that one swallow does not make 
summer, but even with many darting about it 
would hardly be a real summer without the scent 
of roses and mignonette, the smell of the freshly- 
mown lawn, the scatter of white petals from the 
guelder roses, the silvery water-lilies on the still 
dark pond, or the tall ox-eye daisies and coral¬ 
like sorrel in the waving hay, the arching trails 
of wild roses, and the hum of the bees in the 
lime blossom. These and a hundred more plea¬ 
sant and familiar sights and sounds are conjured 
up in the mind by the one word “ Summer.” 
However small the garden is, let it be full 
of all that charms and attracts in this most 
delightful season. The work to produce a 
gorgeous summer garden must have been done 
long before, as now is the time for fulfilment, 
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