Timely Notes and Useful Hints.
Feeling Spring.

Despite the strengthening cold as the days lengthen, we are aware of the march of the days towards summer. Surely, even in August, one can hope for a few days real precursors of spring, when the pale yellow sunshine seems to make clear to our winter-blinded eyes the new green of budding trees, the gleam of opening petals in garden beds, the flurry, poise, swoop of bird wings elated with the winy sap of the season of growth.

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The time to keep a Nature calendar is in spring. Things happen gradually then, and happily for the most part—save when some sudden late blast of winter pinches tender foliage or ill treats an early lamb. From the frost-bound earth emerges life—tiny creeping things, small growing things, pushing out of their winter prison—pupa case, bud scales, bulb, according to their kind—thrusting into the air, gathering warmth and strength from the weak rays of the sun.

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It is first things we note—the brave first leaves, the opening blue of a hyacinth, a little insect creature, poised on a piece of bark, slowly raising and lowering its still damp wings. The early summer rush of growth is not nearly so stirring, so interest-compelling, as these beginnings.

An autumn calendar can be a sad thing, despite the brave riot of colour. So much is loss—leaf fall, the gathering and departure of birds, the gradual disappearance of small creatures going into hiding for the cold months. Even the return to the cities of sparrows after their orgy in harvest fields, and their gratitude for our largess of crumbs, is pathetic. How much more mournful, in countries where one waits for snow, must be the oncoming of winter!

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This nature calendar of ours needs no special recording—merely to observe is enough. To be natural, conforming to the course of nature, to be one with nature, gives that feeling of harmony which is a concomitant of all true and lasting pleasures. Take then, the joy of the season. Even in city parks and gardens you may attend, as upon royalty, the levee of spring.

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