THE GARDENS IN SPRING

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22066, 23 September 1933, Page 17

THE GARDENS IN SPRING

By Barbara A. Kerr. Have you visited the Gardens since spring came dancing across the laud, tossing her gifts of flowers on every hand? Have yon noticed how busy the fairy folk have been to bring the Botanic Gardens to their present state of beauty? Every day sees something new and beautiful peeping out at the sunshine So that of a sudden the earth is clothed with loveliness. Wo approach the Gardens from the gate at the southern end, and our pulses quicken at the' thought of what new wonders we may see to-day in this realm of Faery. The sunlight shines through the weeping willows, the fresh breeze waving their tenderly green branches like curtains of lace. The winding Leith sings a little song of springtime as it ripples over the stones and "we pause for a moment on the rustic bridge to listen until we catch the lilt of the time it. sings. Before we arc well within the gate we see the gleam of daffodil gold under the trees, sunny heads curtseying to one another in their scores and hundreds. “ Wait until the daffodils come out,” they said to us some weeks ago when we, ns newcomers to the south, admired the hothouse flowers, which though beautiful beyond description seemed conscious of being on display whereas the daffodils were in their natural element, growing

in the turf. The sight of the daffodils well repaid the waiting. That first glimpse of the tossing gold will be something to remember while life lasts. We must go, on. Many others have come to see the wealth of blossom and enjoy the sunshine in this place which catches 1 and holds, the warmth as in a green and gay flower bowl. Young folk and old arc strolling along the winding pathways or across the lawns which are not adorned with obnoxious notices to “ Keep off the Grass ” as are so many parks. The rose gardens and pergolas are putting forth their promise of summer glories, but at the moment we arc more enchanted with the patches of blue hyacinths which make little round carpets for the rose bushes and which are like pieces of a summer sky fallen on the grass. After the rain there is a fragrant scent of wet, brown earth , that reminds one of country paddocks newly ploughed in spring. A whiff of perfume is wafted from a flowering currant; beneath a primus there is a sprinkling of delicate petals, like tinted snow; a kowhai tree has hung out her golden pendants to dangle in the breeze. Passing by the sun-dial which marks only life’s sunny hours, we pause to drink in the beauty of a long blue border of grape hyacinths keeping company with poet’s-eye narcissi. Across a little singing stream we wend our way beside the rockeries, gay with aubretia and colourful creeping plants, up the bill where the song-birds are making glad the budding trees. An ecstasy of song floats down from the heights, and hero again the daffodils danced to the. bird music. Now we gaze down on the city. The surrounding hills are blue with distance; the valley is. wreathed in drifting smoke mists, and Dunedin bears, a decided resemblance to “ Auld Reekie.” Surely Dunedin has no'more entrancing view to offer than this from the Gardens hill.