Stealing a March on October.

Now is the time to plant everything which the book says should have been planted at the beginning of winter. Of course all the spring vegetables should have been planted in the late autumn. I am not suggesting that the experts do not know their business, but I know that they don't know mine; for long experience has convinced me that my garden plot is more like a conspiracy than a plot, and the only chance of getting results is to plant everything six months too late or six months too early, thus taking Mother Nature off her guard. This knowledge of the psychology of flowers, fruits, roots, and shoots has enabled me to rear the annual radish which is the pride and joy of my declining years.

There is no doubt that gardening provides a degree of glorious uncertainty, even lacking in horse racing; for in gardening you do have a win sometimes. So

Thank God for a garden!
In winter it lies
All oozy and woozy—
A blight to the eyes;
In spring there is promise
From beds trimly tilled—
A promise which seldom,
Alack! is fulfilled.
In summer when cabbages
Gently unfold,
The sun turns their greenness
To russet and gold.
The lettuces too,
When drought is about,
And hosing unlawful,
Curl up and conk out.
But life is a gamble,
And, begging your pardon,
We sing with the poet,
“Thank God for a garden.”