Out of My Post Bag.

Putaruru Press, Volume XI, Issue 268, 7 September 1933, Page 3

Out of My Post Bag.

CORRESPONDENTS’ TREE. Is your name in this list of the Leaves and Buds of our Correspondents’ Tree ?: Buds. Betty Lowe (Putaruru), 8. Bonny O’Connor (Morrinsville), 5. Celia Olwen Blaker (Morrinsville), 8. Yvonne Hutchings (Morrinsville), 8. Alfred Barlow (Morrinsville), 6. Ray Hogg (Morrinsville), 5. Pauline Bernstein (Morrinsville), 5. Rene Gifford (Morrinsville), 5. Leaves (One to Five Letters). Heather Harwood (Putaruru). Valerie Peters (Putaruru). Jack Kiely (Morrinsville). ■Cushla Casey (Morrinsville). Valda Bartley (.Morrinsville). Joan Clarkin (Morrinsville). Frances Munro (Morrinsville). John Goonan (Morrinsville). Jackie Caulfield (Morrinsville). Pat Ford (Morrinsville). Zena Duck (Morrinsville). Zita Brown (Morrinsville). Maurice Hornsey (Morrinsville). Ray Field (Morrinsville). Monica Jones (Morrinsville). Jill Jones (Morrinsville). Fred Faulkner (Morrinsville). Betty Beck (Morrinsville). “Jean” (Morrinsville). Peter Sanders (Morrinsville). Charlie Elliott (Morrinsville). Hugh McEwen (Morrinsville). Moma O’Connor (Morrinsville). Kenneth McKenzie (Morrinsville). Sonia Deed (Putaruru). - Charlie Fitness (Putaruru). Gordon Smith (Morrinsville). Jean O’Connor (Morrinsville). “Pixie” (Putaruru). Myra Smith (Putaruru). Pat Deed (Putaruru). Connie Walsh (Putaruru). “Bobbie” (Putaruru). Joan Brown (Morrinsville). Susy Baldwin (Putaruru). Nona Ramsey (Putaruru). Billy Sealy (Putaruru). Dick Hutchings (Morrinsville). Dora Cranswick (Matamata). Owen Barnett (Putaruru). Joan Karl (Putaruru)/ Jim White (Putaruru). Rose White (Putaruru). Mary Maule (Putaruru). Ray Williams (Morrinsville). Leslie Morice (Matamata). Alex Morice (Matamata). Peggy Stewart (Putaruru). Audrey Needham (Morrinsville). Hazel Hirst (Morrinsville). Marjory Wallace (Morrinsville). Nancye Parr (Morrinsville). Muriel Field (Morrinsville). Merle Clover (Morrinsville). “ A.R.F. ” (Matamata). “Olga” (Matamata). Daphne Warrander (Putaruru). Joan Hutchings (Morrinsville). Phil Cranston (Morrinsville). Bernard O’Connor (Morrinsville). ' Joe Park (Morrinsville). Leila Grinsley (Matamata). Cecil Ruthe (Putaruru). Margaret Duff (Putaruru). Mona Hounsell (Putaruru). ] “ Verena ” (Morrinsville). , Marie Johnson (Matamata). Lewis Wright (Matamata). Grace Johnson (Matamata). Pearl Wright (Matamata). : Leslie Wright (Matamata). ] Olga Familoe (Matamata). . Elaine Howie (Morrinsville). June Anderson (Putaruru). *■ Joan Bartleet (Matamata). f Alf Spain (Putaruru). < Harry Lowe (Putaruru). ] Frances Horner (Morrinsville). Ruth McGregor (Morrinsville). *

Lichfield. Dear Jill, —Thank you for the birthday wishes, Jill. You will be busy looking up all the birthdays now, won’t you? There are quite a lot of things around that remind us of spring. Something new every day. One day I was out on the verandah when I heard a chirping and scuffling- on the roof, and when after some trouble I managed to scramble up I discovered two starlings busily engaged in making a nest. I suppose they (and we) will be awake with the dawn when the baby birds come on the scene. They make rather a noise, don’t they ? Another messenger of spring is a small fruit tree white with blossom, while behind and towering over it is a majestic wattle, the branches of which are so heavily laden with blossom that they droop almost to the ground. The greeny-brown of the pines clustering behind forms a lovely background. And yesterday as I was going through the small plantation of poplars I noticed tiny green leaves unfurling from the bare branches. Well, Jill, I will close now. Miith love from Mona Hounsell.

Dear Mona, Yes, the starlings are busy again. Don’t they make a mess as well as a noise ? Thank you for the letter with all the signs of spring. I hope you like the Spring Page.—Jill.

“ HOLLYHOCKS.” (Original.) Just by the garden wall There grow some hollyhocks tall, Some tiger-lilies, too; But though I’ve watched for hours and hours, No tigers come from the lily flowers, Nor holly from hollyhocks Just by our garden wall .

Putaruru. Dear Jill, I have been a very long time in writing to you, but I always read your letter in the Column. I like to read them all. Well, dear Jill, I am enjoying my school holidays at home. My little brother has a horse called Tommy, and we have good fun riding on his back, and we love to get him to gallop. He does not like to get a smack with a stick. When he sees David take a stick in his hand he goes off with a gallop. Well, Jill, I will say good-night, with lots of love from Daphne Warrander. Dear Daphne,—You are getting quite clever at writing now, are you not? Tommy must be a nice horse to let you and David ride him. You j will be back at school by the time you read this. Good luck!—Jill.

Morrinsville. Dear Jill, —I went to Hamilton. On the way I saw some little lambs by their mothers’ side. One was so tiny you could hardly see it. That is a sign of spring. Now I see that the pussy willow is peeping from its winter’s nap. That is a sign of spring, too. I promised to send you a “ spring song,” didn’t I. We sing it at school . Here it is: Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Birdies, build your nest! Weave together straw and feather, Doing each your very best. Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Flowers are coming, too! Pansies, lilies, daffodils Now are coming through. I must close for I want to go and play house. Good-bye. Love.— Olwen Blaker. I Dear Olwen,—l was pleased to receive the Spring Song. You did j notice lots of signs of spring. You j make good use of your eyes, little j girl. I do think pussy willows j pretty. The weeping willow is so delicately green by all the river i banks. I hope you enjoy the Spring Page, dear, —Jill. SUNSHINE AND SONG. Let us welcome the flowers and the sunshine, and the songs of the birds; perhaps they know better than us the signs of the times. '

Mangateparu. ! Dear Jill, —The spring is here! What a wondrous sight, and how marvellous is nature to blossom forth each year! Trees are breaking into bud and very soon will be covered in blossoms and leaves. How different the fields appear with nice, refreshing green grass growing after the brown of autumn and winter! The lambs, too, are now gamboling around, which is a pretty sight in the country. Look at our gardens! What a transformation! Bulbs shoot up, shrubs clothe themselves in a green garb, and flowers blossom and send forth exquisite perfumes. Cheerio. With love.— Yvonne Hutchings.

P.S.—Please, how many letters do you have to write to be a Flower, because this is my sixth.—Y.V.

Dear Yvonne, —Glad to receive letters from you always, dear. Yes, spring is really coming now. I wonder if old Mr. Winter will try to frighten her away before spring is quite at home down here on earth again I expect five letters after you become a Bud, Yvonne. You have written three, I think.—Good luck!—Jill.

Okauia. Dear Jill, —-One week of our holiday has gone. We put the records on the gramaphone now. I had a ride on Eceles’ pony yesterday. Becks have got two young lambs. There is a thrush’s nest in our trees. We are only milking one cow now. The wattle trees have their blossoms and they have a good scent. The bullfinches come in to get the insects from the gardens. My Uncle Tom planted some more trees. We have got two polyanthus out. Next month we will be planting our water lilies. Our rhododendrons will soon be coming out and our lilac will soon have leaves now. There 'are a lot of violets out. Yours while the flowers bloom, Leslie Wright.

Dear Leslie, —Yes it is a pity the ' holidays are going so quickly. How ' pretty ..the wattles look with their golden blooms, don’t you think? ! Write again and tell me more about | the birds ar.d the flowers and trees. —Jill. )

A GROWN-UP’S CONTRIBUTION. “ When daffodils begin to peer, Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year.” Hundreds of years ago that was written by our greatest poet, and still it holds good to-day, and will to the end of time. Who does not love the season when all nature wakes after her long winter sleep; though not so long in our beloved land as in the Northern Hemisphere. How we look eagerly for the first, spring flowers, the snowy baby' lambs, and everything that is quickened into life by the warm sun. Always spring sterns to be a miracle, we never tire of looking forward to it and being thankful when it comes. In England it seems to be even more awaited; there, in the winter, most of the trees are gaunt and bare, often snow covered, and spring seems to creep in very slowly. Sometimes it is just the little crocus and snowdrop that tells that spring has indeed come. We used to have a pretty custom in the North of England on May 1. For days before we were busy decorating a maypole with coloured paper flowers and making wreaths for ourselves. It used to be a point of honour to have the prettiest decorations in the town. Then around we danced, holding a ribbon streamer attached to the top of the pole, singing appropriate songs. One small girl would be chosen to be Queen of the May, standing under a flowery hoop held by two little maids. I do not know whether the custom still persists. I expect, like many other harmless pastimes, it has died out. My last week in England only touched the fringe of spring, which was spent in Devon, and my last picture of it is a beautiful bed of golden daffodils fluttering and dancing in the breeze.” In the background was a splendid Elizabethan mansion. I did not inquire to whom it belonged, —the picture satisfied me. Some day, perhaps, I shall see another English spring, for my own heart echoes the cry of the exiled poet:— “Oh, to be in England now that April’s here.” AN INTERESTED PARENT.