One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass

Travel Is In Sad Case. It Is Uncomfortable, It Is Expensive; It Is A Source Of Annoyance To Our Friends, And Of Loneliness To Ourselves.

The Farmer And The Gardener Are Both Busy, The Gardener Perhaps The More Excitable Of The Two, For He Is More Of The Amateur, Concerned With The Creation Of Beauty Rather Than With The Providing Of Food. Gardening Is A Luxury Occupation; An Ornament, Not A Necessity, Of Life.

It Is Necessary To Write, If The Days Are Not To Slip Emptily By. How Else, Indeed, To Clap The Net Over The Butterfly Of The Moment? For The Moment Passes, It Is Forgotten; The Mood Is Gone; Life Itself Is Gone. That Is Where The Writer Scores Over His Fellows: He Catches The Changes Of His Mind On The Hop.

Growth Is Exciting; Growth Is Dynamic And Alarming.

The Shortest Day Has Passed, And Whatever Nastiness Of Weather We May Look Forward To In January And February, At Least We Notice That The Days Are Getting Longer. Minute By Minute They Lengthen Out. It Takes Some Weeks Before We Become Aware Of The Change. It Is Imperceptible Even As The Growth Of A Child, As You Watch It Day By Day, Until The Moment Comes When With A Start Of Delighted Surprise We Realize That We Can Stay Out Of Doors In A Twilight Lasting For Another Quarter Of A Precious Hour.