In the Garden In spite of the deluge, aconites and
snowdrops are making a good show this year. The snowdrop is a flower that delights in two ways; first. as a symbol, secondly, in its detail, for it is perhaps the most delicately formed of all flowers. We see it starring the grass, and its purity and significant insignificance at once appeal as signs of hope and the turn of the year. Take up a bloom on its stalk, and see how hair-triggerly it is poised and joined. And note the little green markings on the inner three segments that alternate with the external ones. The effect of this decoration of bright green on the white surface is so clean, so demure. that one is reminded of some of the garments painted by early Italian masters in their pictures of the Holy Family. This comparison reminds me that the snowdrop is sometimes called "Tears of the Madonna." But they are surely tears of joy, for the certitude in her heart.
In defiance of the usual admonition never to sow in wet soil, I have put in a row of spinach seed this week, and set glass above it. For people who love spinach (and who does not, when it is properly cooked for five minutes, with an addition of nutmeg, or a sprig of rosemary?) my folly will appear to be pardonable. Spinach, like peas, is all the more delectable for being early.
RICHARD CHURCH.
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