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Updated: May 21, 2025
Would you like Lady Bird's recipe? Any little girl can make them. Take a good many rose-leaves; put some sugar with them, as much sugar as you can get; tie them up in paper, or in a good thick grape-leaf; lay them on a bench, and sit down on them hard several times: then they are done.
The various leaf worms attack the life of the tree also. The grape-leaf skeletonizer eats every particle of green from the leaves, leaving only the veins. The canker-worms and the destructive tent-caterpillars also cause the death of many fruit trees. Of insects which attack the fruit, the list is long. The codling-moth of the apple causes a greater money loss than any other enemy of fruits.
And such a wonderful and wide-flung world it was, spreading out beneath me in mottled patches of grape-leaf green and yellow and gold, with a burgundian riot of color along the western sky-line where the last orange rind of the sun had just slipped down out of sight.
The massive mahogany pew-doors were elaborately carved and surmounted by small crosses; the tall, arched windows were of superb stained glass, representing the twelve apostles; the floor and balustrade of the altar, and the grand Gothic pillared pulpit, were all of the purest white marble; and the capitals of the airy, elegant columns of the same material, that supported the organ gallery, were ornamented with rich grape-leaf moulding; while the large window behind and above the pulpit contained a figure of Christ bearing his Cross a noble copy of the great painting of Solario, at Berlin.
One afternoon in the following July, tired of walking in the mown fields, and of carrying a nest of mice, which I had discovered under a hay-rick, I concluded I would begin a system of education with them; so arranging them on a grape-leaf, I started homeward.
The sky looked like dark-blue metal in which a hole had been cut for a lake of fire. The heat it emptied quivered visibly in the parched fields, and the mountains swam in a purple haze. Talbot had a grape-leaf in his hat, and the suns of California had baked his complexion long since, but he wished that his birthday occurred in winter, as he had wished many a time before.
Solitary, he would take his piece of dry bread and grape-leaf full of cherries, and wander to the woods or on the mountain-side, stopping and sitting on a boulder to write on his ever-faithful pad when the thought came. "I have to walk ten miles to get a thousand words," he said. In Geneva at this time lived Diderot and D'Alembert, literary refugees, busy at that first encyclopedia.
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