Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-06-04
For the Vermont watchman
The Month of May.

One would say this subject had been worn
threadbare years ago, but so long as its
beauties come to us with such freshness and
sweetness, just so long will there be found
scribblers to write upon it, When ones life
goes ga Maying with youth, hope and
poesyi' if they are of the sentimental sort
they are quite apt to look upon dreamy Oc-
tober as the crowiing month of all the year,
but later in life they are quite as apt to set
May down as the month of months. At
this season nature doesn't take us to her
heart with such kindiness as in Autumn,
when she seems to have grown matronly and
confidential, but on the contrary she now
keeps rs at arms lengths like a shy
maiden with dash of coquetry about her
that is not unpleasing. An industrious
worker she certainly is, and there is great
need of it, for she has world of beauty to
create, and much unsightly rubbish to cover
with garments of richest green, for green is
all the fashion now. There is no hustle nor
evident haste, yet the work goes on rapidly
and Increasingly. A suspicion of verdure is
seen in moist, sunny spots, which widens
and deepens in color, and anon the whole
meadow is vividly green and softer than
velvet. How lovely it is with its cowslip-
bordered brooklet, and its patches of blue aud
white violets Some morning you discover a
faint mist gathering about the woods, and
perchance on the morrow's morn" it has
grown dense and has just tint of greener
then comes the feathery foliage and then
the full leaf, through which the breezes
come and go with a slumbrous murmur
that pleasantly mingles with the roar of an
impetuous little brook near by. "There is
a gracious mystery in the air, the sun and
upon the earth" What a world of delight
the orchard is in May 1t cannot be so fair
in fruitage as in bloom One would 90 in
ecstacies over these delicately tinted buds
and blossoms if they were of hot-house
culture. What mass of exquisite fragrance
is this crabapple tree. The air is heavy
with the perfume of Towering plum trees,
and how airily the petals fall down upon the
green, green grass. A very paradise for
birds, this orchard is. My knowledge of
the feathered tribe is disgracefuly scanty,
but the most unobservant eye cannot fail to
notice The golden robin fitting about like
flame, amid the white blossoms and green
leaves--and no ear, be it ever so unframed,
but can distinguish the difference between
the mcurnful sweetness OF the golden robins
note, and the rollicking song of the "tipsy
boboink." In New England, May is the
season of melody and love-making for the
birds. To be sure they have their jealousies
and tifs, and even fierce little battles, but let
us believe in the end they must speed well
in their wooing, and will soon settle down to
happy nest-building
Honorable mention must be made of our
frogs which peep and mutter and require a
deal Of practice in order to come out in full
chorus the first warm evening then they
will give the most deectable concert under
the sin-or under the stars, forsooth.
Thank God for the frogs |" said friend
in the May of long ago, and in the May
twilight. "Thank God for the frogs" rev.
erently say |.
MAY of 1879