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Updated: May 10, 2025
Up hill and down hill, and past little homesteads shining with yellow crocuses; across wide brown heaths, whose outlines raised in Evan's mind the night of his funeral walk, and tossed up old feelings dead as the whirling dust. At last Raikes called out: 'The towers of Fallow field; heigho! And Andrew said: 'Now then, Van: if Old Tom's anywhere, he's here.
"What's wrong with this little bit of garden this here park," he began, "is the soil. It's no soil for daffodils. Now what daffodils like is clay." "Then for Heaven's sake get them some clay. Spare no expense. Get them anything they fancy." "It's too alloovial that's what's the matter. Too alloovial. Now, crocuses like a bit of alloovial. That's where you have it."
It's a beautiful day. Who said that first? I believe you did." "Them there rooks always make a place seem so home-like. Rooks and crocuses, I say and you don't want anything more." "Yes; well, if the rooks want to build in the raspberry canes this year, let them, James. Don't be inhospitable." "Course, some do like to see primroses, I don't say. But " "Primroses I knew there was something.
She did not seem to mind old Sally's talk, almost to hear it, but when it ended, she waited, still silent, as a child, when the music is over, listens for more. When she came down she placed her chair near the window, that she might see the snowdrops and the crocuses.
Then a great anxiety overpowered her, and this did not escape his notice; for one day, while his young wife hung on his arm and added a few brief words of sympathy, he asked Kuni if she was ill or if she needed anything; but she answered curtly in the negative and hurried into the garden, where the children, with merry shouts, were helping the gardener to free the beds of crocuses and budding tulips from the pine boughs which had protected them from the frosts of winter.
This morning brought through Harriet, Margaret Craig's joy at your promotion, and Honora says I must go out this delightful sunshine morning, and look at all the full-blown crocuses, violets, heath, and pyrus japonica. I have a standard pyrus now vulgar things compared with your Indian Prides.
The flowers of those early days were crocuses, snowdrops, white roses, a little yellow flower they called ladies' fingers, sea-pinks, and London pride particularly London pride. In the walks Jane Nettles used to teach her the wonderful rhyme of "London Bridge is broken down, Grand, said the little Dee, London Bridge is broken down, Fair-Lade-ee."
Even in the rain it was nice out of doors; clumps of purple and yellow crocuses showed under the gooseberry bushes; lilies were pushing up green heads through the soil; the flowering currant was bursting into bud; roots of polyanthus flaunted mauve and orange blossoms; under a sheltered wall were even a few early violets, whose sweet fresh scent seemed as the first breath of spring.
Afterwards he had left Silliston for a lumber camp on a remote river in northern Maine, abruptly to reappear, on a mild afternoon late in April, in Augusta Maturin's garden. The crocuses and tulips were in bloom, and his friend, in a gardening apron, was on her knees, trowel in hand, assisting a hired man to set out marigolds and snapdragons.
Then with a little shake of her skirts she is gone, and your eyes are opened to the fact that the trees have put forth brave green buds, and that yellow crocuses and white snowdrops are dancing and curtseying to you from odd corners of the Park. Joan's life at the Evening Herald Office, once the first novelty had worn off, and because it was spring outside, became very monotonous and very tiring.
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