Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-02-26

The happiest day Washington has
known for a long time was the best of
the recent Springlike ones which de-
scended upon the city out of no one
knew what beneficent Heaven.
Men, womsn, children were trans
formed; dogs, cats, squirrels ran and
leaped; rosebushes began to sprout and
the grass to take on a greener look.
If it wasn't Spring, it was exactly
like it.
The same feel was in the air. the
tons were prompted in the hearts OF
human beings.
Everywhere the topic of conversation
was the weather. Just like Spring,
isn't it?' was heard a thousand times.
You don't need that overcoat today
greeted every conservative person.
A universal hope was expressed that
the false Spring would last, but there
was an instant headwagging in oppo-
sltion. Such days could not last; there
would be snow and sleet soon; it was
foolish even to think of Spring.
X X * *
Yet such pessimists did not prevent
thousands of gardeners in the District
OF Columbia from going into their back
yards Tor an extended look at their
Some enthusiasts even went to the
extent of spending all afternoon there.
pruning rosebushes, collecting the old
leaves and gathering up the genel al
debris which cutters up yard over
the Winter
Many who had forgotten that they
mad such things as yards suddenly be-
came interested in them. 1t was as if
the instantaneous warm weather had
unlocked a closed door, through which
one went to make momentous dis
covery.
Snow and sleet do not help in keep
ing up garden enthusiasm. One mus
be the posseSsor of better garden than
most persons have to spend much time
upon 1t when the winds blow and the
leaves descend and the snow covers the
land. Such place can be and often
Is arranged by careful gardeners CT
much experience, who have spent
enough time and money to be able to
distinguish the really worth while from
the ephemeral and merely snowy. Most
home gardeners, however, do not tackle
the planting problem in any such COM
plete spirit. They are content to put
in shrub here, a few perennials there,
without much thought about it one way
or the other
The result of this haphazard state of
affairs Is that when Winter comes, with
all its discomfort and strange glory,
they crawl into their shells. called
houses, and are content to abide there
in comfort until such time as Nature,
in her mysterious processes, makes the
/ outdoors pleasant for them again.
* * X
And Spring is pleasant.
Yet some queer people, probably of
inherently contrary natures, insist on
speaking of this most beautiful of the
seasons as If it were a poor second to
Summer and really not as good as
Winter.
Not as good as Winter! Why, Win
ter is the time of heated houses, colds.
sickness, sneezes, discomfort. Stores
and homes mostly are too hot, and
when they are not superheated they
are too cold
Spring-and we speak of the real
Spring, of course-is the one just right
season for every one. Then the joy of
life is at its height
There is no need then to pretend to
be happy to be alive-eYery one not i'll
is glad of the chance to participate
again in this recurrent mystery of green
leaves out Of bare stalks and boughs.
X x X x
People formerly wrote Spring poems,
but they have passed out of style, along
with-We were about to say long skirts,
but those are coming back again, or at
least trying to come back again.