HOW SPRING COMES 39 
Poised on a long stem with its lovely face held up 
to the sky, this large calm violet lends peculiar 
charm to the woods among the grays and delicate 
young greens of the forest floor. 
While the irises and violets are yet in bloom the 
heavy buds of the pink azaleas slowly expand, the 
scales open, and airy flowers emerge in bright clus- 
ters that light up shady corners in the woods and 
brim the forest with their faint, refreshing fragrance. 
Like all the rest they linger long. There is no hurry. 
About the time that the pink azaleas begin to 
open, the earliest of the rhododendrons — those that 
tapestry the damp walls of the ravines with patterns 
of twisted limbs and thick evergreen leaves — be- 
come embroidered with clusters of blush-rose and 
cream-white blossoms. 
But there are other signs of spring than the coming 
of birds and flowers. As the season advances, the 
dark tracery of the trees becomes intermingled with 
many colors as young leaves bud out of the stiff twigs 
and rival the flowers in beauty. As you now look 
off at the mountains, new colors appear among the 
dark pine trees. Pale green creeps daintily up the 
ravines proclaiming the awakening of the tulip- 
trees. Budding hardwood trees everywhere mingle 
delicate shades of pink and yellow and silver-white, 
soft greens, and bronze-reds, with the dark green of 
the pines. The forest is transformed, it gives the 
impression of one wreathed in smiles. The tide of 
life is rising strongly though yet slowly. 
The mountains, most of the time enveloped in a 
