Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1916-08-24
we looked at the boxes sadly.

we looked at the boxes sadly.
"Wheww said Stella, 'syou can't be
lazy and have garden, can you?"
Il don't work tomorrow, I guess"
said I. "Shall we ask Mikes Joe to
help us?''
'Neverr' said my wife. We'll put
these bulbs in ourselves. If had any
help should feel like the Eckstroms.
which God Forbid"
So the next day at seYen-thirty we
began. We rnged the pool with Ger
man and Japanese iris, alternated for
succession, and planted a few Japa-
nese both below and above the pool,
close to the brook We set the Narcis-
sus poeticus bulbs where, If they grew,
the flowers could look at themselves in
the mirror below the dam. The EN-
press narcissus We placed on both
sides of the pool just beyond the iris.
On each side of the bench we placed
bulb Of euf precious Myriophyllums,
and put the tigers into the borders
close TO the shrubbery on both sides.
The hyacinths went into the sundial
beds, the Darwins into the beds at the
base of the rose aqueduct, few GRO
cuses into the sundial lawn, and the
daffodfls here and there all over the
place, where the fancy struck us and
the ground invited.
''Now, I'm going to label everything.
and put it on map besides" cried
40
to forget where they are. I want sur
prises in the spring. Oh, John, do you
suppose they'll come up"
Eyes, I suppose they WILL" laughed
"some Of them. But do you suppose
We'll ever get the kinks out of our
backs?''
I'm willing to go doubled up all the
rest Of my life for garden of daffo-
dis all my own" she cried
And then my heart with pleasure thrills
And dances with the daffodils-
at was very thoughtful Of old Words
worth, and Shakespeare, and Masefeld
and all the rest to write nice things
about daffodils, wasn't it, John? l
wonder if gardens would be so won
derful if it weren't for all their lit
erary suggestions, and the lovely
things they remind you of? Gardens
have SO much atmosphere! Oh, spring.
spring, hurry and Gomez
I forgot my lame back in her enthu-
siasm, and later, when the apples were
gathered, the potatoes dug, the beets
and carrots in the root cellar, our own
sweet cider foamed in a glass pitcher
on our table, and the first snow spits
of December whistled across the fields.
irises and other bulbs, and pine boughs
over the remaining perennials, and
wrapped the ramblers in straw, with
almost as much laughing tenderness
as you would put child to bed
The COWS were back in the stable
and Mike had revised his opinion of
cork-asphalt floors when he realized
the ease Of cleaning with a hose; the
potatoes and apples and onions and
beets and carrots for our family use
were stored in barrels and bins in the
cellar, or spread on shelves, or buried
In sand. The vegetable garden was
newly ploWed, and manure spread on
the bayfield, Antony and Cleopatra
had been captured and brought into
the dining room, where they were to
spend the winter In a glass bowl. Epic
tetus and Luella and Gladys and Gay
nor had all burrowed out of sight into
the ground. The pageant of autumn
on our hills was over only an amethyst
haze succeeding at sunset time. Wood
fires sparkled In our twin hearths. The
summer residents had departed. Our
first Thanksgiving turkey had been
eaten, though a great stone crock of
Mrs. Pillig's Incompatible mincemeat
still yielded up its treasures for am
brosial pies.
"And now" said Stella, I'm going
to find out at last what country win
ter is like!'
"And your friends are plying you
down In town." said I. Don't you
want to go back to them till spring."
Stella looked at the fires, she looked
out over the bare garden and the
plowed fields to the dun hillsides, she
listened a moment to the whistle Of
the bleak December wind, she looked
at me.
In her eyes I read her answer.