COMING OF SPRING.

Auckland Star, 2 September 1933, Page 1 (Supplement)

COMING OF SPRING.

GOLDEN DAYS. TOWN AND COUNTRY , . (By M.E.S.) It had come at last, that season towards which tho heart of man has yearned through all the ages. Already the harsh, cold days of winter were forgotten and the- yearly miraclo of spring was at hand. With its advent had come oblivion of all tlnit was past; vanished the piercing -wind and driving sleet, the Lard frosts and bitter rain of tho long winter months. "The year's at tho spring, tlio day's at tlie morn," The world was young once more. You could read it in the very faces of tlio people in the streets—a gladness and :t yearning. Joy for tho beauty of the world, yearning for green fields and open spaces. Once a year the heart of your most inveterate townsman turns towards the freedom of tlio mountains, the open, placid beauty of tlic plains, and tho dark secret places of tho forest. "A great day to bo in tho country," mutters one stockbroker to another, and thinks with longing of tlio farm where ho wae born and bred, of "the wide green pastures, the hleck. mild-eyed cove, and tho old sheep dog that lay basking in the sun. It had been a goo 1 farm, an excellent cutting-up proposition; yet once a year ho regretted that proiitablo sale. Tho suburban gardens were beautiful. Every neat Ifwh was glowing with the deep, soft, green of spring and every bed and border was ablaze with flowers, palo primroses, thousand-hued anemones, tho pure aloofness of snowdrops, and everywhere tho golden glory of daffodils. In the parks it was a joy to linger besido the blaziii™ beds. Overhead the early blossoms glimmered pink and snowy, whito against a sky so blue that it filled the heart with wonder. Every seat was tilled with men and women dreaming in the kindly sunshine, thankful for the respite from dull offices and chilly shops. The young faces were filled with unreasoning,* instinctive joy, and even the old looked happily at the renewal of life that was all about them, reading therein a euro promise of rebirth. Meantime they eat and dreamed of youth. Joys of Town. Tho shops were gay witli lovely spring shades, glimmering golds, warm browns, and a dozen shades of blue as bright as the day. In the florists' a riot of colour caught the longing eyes of the flat-dweller, of the very poor, and of those who daily turned revolted eyes from the paper flowers set upon the tables of cheap boarding-houses. In every shop window the messages were urgent. There was a rush, a sense of urgency in the air. Everything was vividly, beautifully alive. In the suburban streets the relief workers worked more cheerfully. They chipped weeds from the paths and trimmed park hedges with a new hope in their hearts. Winter was over. Work would bo more plentiful soon. One, on whose face the dark tan of the open skies was fading to the sickly pallor of town, straightened himself suddenly. A tui had called from the shelter of a big tree in the native reserve. "Hear that?" he asked of Ms companion. "Spring's come. In another month there'll be work to be had in tho country. Then I can chuck all this and go back to a man's job. That bird makes me see it all." He fell silent and for a minute his eyes were looking far beyond tho line of houses that hid the sky across tho street. Change of Scene. It was not so brilliant, of coiu-se. The •rrass was not so green, nor was there that wealth of colour everywhere that daddened city eyes. The garden of 'ihe little cottage was still bare and frost-bound, but here and there daffodils poked up bright adventurous heads, and beneath the barberry hedge the primroses were timidly peeping. There were no lovely flowering trees to scatter their blossoms to the blue sky, but against the Bombro background of the shelter pines there burned the golden flame of wattle. How long they had watched and waited for those littlo balls of ilower to open. They had been tinged with gold for a month before their beauty burst in a riot of colour one lovely spring morning. ■ Now they were opened fully, blowing softly golden in ihe warm breeze, scattering their feathery beauty with a prodigal hand that told of other treasures held in fee. Those who live in tho back country watch every year for that shimmer of sold with a hunger born of long months of sombro greys and unchanging greens. "The wattle 'is in flower; spring will not bo long." And yet it delays in its coming, giving one day of sheer joy, of gold and blue and green, of birds singing in the clear air, of animals dreaming in the sunshine, of hearts opening to the eternal promiso of tho season; withdrawing the next behind a scurry of flying clouds, a cold rain arid a lashing wind that scatters the golden wattle, breaking the young branches to fling them underfoot into tho sodden mud. Spring's Coyness. z Yet, perhaps because of these very delays, tho goldeu spring days are the nioro wonderful when they come. Here in the heart of tho bush they realise the true joy of tho season more even than in the streets of a city. The closeshaven lawns of town may gladden many tired eves, but that tinge of green that (•Mines so slowly and so reluctantly upon tho grey, sparse pastures means ronowal of life 'and strength to many heart-sick mid hungry beasts. .The warm sunshine dries ileceee that have been vet for weeks and brings fresh vigour and the will to struggle to many a frame wasted and worn by the hardships of winter. On every sun-swept knoll the sheep and rattle lie basking in that almost forgotteu warmth, dreaming of lush pastures and tho soft, deep grasses of summer. Only the bush remains unchanged. In two months' time its eombronoss wnl he lit by a thousand stars of snowy clematis, but now it stands quiet and green and silent, untouched by the not c»f springing life all around. Untouched? lint beneath those deep, quiet shadows fresh life is waking, and from tho soft mould a thousand tiny green points arc pooping In tin; deep glades the fern fronds are uncurling softly, and in the leafy undergrowth the riro's song is never silent. Far above the tui's notes rill" out, a trifle shy and experimental nt first, but presently clear and ringing, triumphant in the knowledge that spring has come. The tui's song? Once again the notes fell clearly—but it was in the quiet street that the relief worker heard them to-dav Ho started, and in a moment hie dream had gone. With a clatter ot his hoo ho began once more to chip the weeds from a city path.