Evening star., 1925-10-20
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES Z. TR1CEHELL.

The sure progress OF the days had
been working at the roots OF all our
plants The zinnias, after a Summer
of noble effort, had been heavily mil
dewed and even before the first frost
had shown signs of ceasing their ef-
forts.
The petunas. a blaze OF color and
bank Of green for months, had become
a bit dra ggled as the wheel of time
turned over. 1t is not so much lack
of sunshine, OF Of warmth, or of rain,
or OF any material factors. but a de-
sire for rest that rings down the cur
tain on the garden.
What a play, TO be sure, the garden
has been.
Here we had a drama extending
over months, in which the scenery,
not the actors, was the whole play
We who strutted our little parts amid
this glorious set did so mainly as
spectators.
The garden was grateful enough for
what we gave. AS we were happy to
give it such time. money and brains
as we could, in it's turn the garden
accepted them with the natural grace
inherent in Gods creations.
Whenever we stopped to think Of it
all, however, we realized that the
power behind the garden was doing
the work. These blooming roses, these
bright marigOds, these long-lasting
snapdra CONS, these graceful spikes of
foxglove, these leaning spires of holly
hooks, had come into being not be-
cause of us, but in spite OF us: not
because we helped them, but because
they could not help themselves; not in
answer to our beck and call, but joy
ously al the incomparably higher
orders sent down to them on every
living sunbeam that flooded 10 earth.
X x X
Now counter orders have been is
su ed. and all along the line the flowers
are falling out. Now here. now there,
some brave blossom witherS and dies.
The vines that have clothed our fences
with lovelness weeks on end. sensing
the futility Of more effort. are drying
up tendril by tendril. Lilac bushes.
green all Summer, droop under the
universal command. as the curtain OF
Winter is about to be rung down on
the scene.
Poets, viewing this change from the
human standpoint, have inVariah hlv
glorified il as sad. They have called it
the most melancholy time OF the wear,
and have spoken tenderiy OF fading
flower and falling leaf.
These faithful poets. however. have
to the tribes OF flowers. To mankind
fading and dissolution are ever sad.
We are made that way.
The flowers are made differently
that is all. There is no such thing as
sadness or melancholy In Nature.
Change wears hut one face. and that
is-change. What to the human
minds seems sad is. in the world OF
nature, but difference.
Summer Is different from Spring.
and Autumn from Summer. There is
cycle to be gone through. and the
plants go through it. Animals are
born, live and die. and only know sad.
ness when they come in touch with us.
Everywhere in Nature change ac-
complishes its unknown purpose. and
goes on accomplishing it, year after
year. II is thus we have our seasons.
What the purpose OF ii all lis we are
not given surely to know.
The flowers are true to their nature.
and we to ours; when they change.
we grow happy or sad. as the muta
tion is one to please our senses or TO
make us melancholy.
1t Is well for us if we~can throw off.
a this time of the year; something of
our broodinG spirit and take in some
of the fatality of the flowers, which.
having given us their beauty, take it
away again in due season.