THE FLOWERS IN MY GARDEN

Southland Times, Issue 22999, 19 September 1936, Page 22 (Supplement)

THE FLOWERS IN MY GARDEN

— PRIZE —

One summer’s evening as I was watering my flowers, I overheard them talking. “At last she has come to water us,” said a proud voice. “Yes, it is time she did! Fancy leaving us for three days in the scorching heat, and not giving us any refreshment,” continued a tall delphinium. A tiny pansy surprised me then, by saying that I had been sick and could not come out to water them. Where had it learnt this? For that matter how could any of the flowers speak? But there they were talking away, just like any human being. “Listen to her!” cried all the flowers together. “But that is true, nevertheless,” answered my little defender. (I love my pansies best of all!) “Oh, stop quarrelling and dress for the ball,” exclaimed a bored poppy. I was bewldered by that conversation, and when I told mother about it, all she said was that I must have been dreaming. But I know better; those flowers were talking, even though I have not heard them since! I stood there watching, but all I could see in the shadowy garden were the dim figures of the flowers fluttering in the night breeze. Suddenly, I saw a vision of dancing couples. Those couples were flowers! Absolute silence reigned in the garden; as the moon came out, I saw the flowers swaying in their beds. Was I dreaming? Or was it the deceiving magic of twilight which had played with my imagination? Next morning, I ran out to see if my garden was the same as usual. I need not have feared, for there were my flowers in ther correct places. My delphiniums and hollyhocks were at the back, with blushing roses growing round their stalks. Sweet peas almost grew wild as they rambled over and completely hid from sight, a bush which grew in one corner. Along the border, pansies of every colour and size grew in profusion, from great velvet beauties, down to the tiny cheeky-faced ones; and last of all, poppies and carnations grew just anywhere. Although I have many things in my garden, it is really quite small, and guilty of a few unwelcome weeds. After that conversation which I had overheard, I decided to be more kind to my flowers, so I transplanted a young tree to my garden. But, oh dear, it is taking so long to grow big and leafy, that it will be a few years yet before the flowers receive any shade from it.

—Prize of 1/- to Cousin Jacqueline Reid (10), 107 Lewis street.

— PRIZE —

Suddenly I woke up. It was the middle of a Spring night and I could feel a cool wind brushing across my face from the open window. But that was not all. I could hear voices—sweet and soft, to be sure, but still voices. Creeping up to the window, I peeped cautiously out. The sight I saw nearly succeeded in taking my breath away. For a moment I fancied I was dreaming, but dreams, one feels, are not usually so extraordinarily real. Standing assembled on the green lawn, were all the newly arrived Spring flowers that had previously been in my garden. After watching their movements for a short time, I decided that they must be choosing a King and Queen from among the gathering, for, of course, someone had to be made responsible for settling disputes or arranging state occasions. Evidently there was a difference in opinion, but eventually their voices were lowered, and I heard that they were going, to vote. During the quiet following, I looked around for those whom I knew. In one little group were the violets, who had previously been in a shady corner beneath a lilac tree. Further away were the primroses and crocuses, the latter looking rather cross for they had hidden their faces from the other flowers. Of course I knew that the daffodils and narcissi expected to be chosen. It is strange how they seldom appreciate being ‘out of things.’ Many other flowers were present, but before I had time to gaze longer, a large, self-important grape hyacinth stood up to proclaim the winners. “Miss Snowdrop and Mr Flowering Cherry are now our chosen King and Queen,” he said. “Mr Flowering Currant and Miss Apple Blossom were next in votes. Will the two mentioned first, please come to receive their crowns?” Blushing a rosy pink, Mr Flowering Cherry walked up, followed by Miss Snowdrop looking sweeter and purer than ever. A loud cheering greeted them as they received the daisy-petal crown, and then they returned to their companions.

Silently I slipped back to bed, and next day, to the surprise of the flowers, I paid more attention to the King and Queen, showing them that I knew.

—Prize of 1/- to Cousin Ruth Dowden, V.A.C., M.M.S. (13), 11 Scandrett street, Invercargill.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

It is just a little plot, with sweet stock, Love in a mist, and all the dear old fashioned flowers with the most lovely scents. As I sit weeding and loosening up earth around little leaves that are trying to burst through to the golden sunlight, my fork grow's sleepy and scratches in one place. My garden grows, and seems to become as huge as a park with birds singing their glorious melodies from the swaying, blossomed trees, and bumble-bees are humming in the thorny rose bushes. A singing brook goes babbling through the flower beds, over hung by weeping willow trees and tender lacy fems. Rustic seats are here and there under spreading trees, with their soft green leaves. Fountains dash silver spray far up into the sunlight, and it falls again on to the lovely statues of horses and angels, and boys with wings, and bows and arrows. At the bottom of the garden lies a most immortal and enchanting place. That is the place for the fairies’ midnight revels. There the sweet grass is always dewy, and mushrooms grow with lacy little veils. Birds sing there with all their might, In trees that are unimaginable. Flowers are most lovely and sweet. Nearly hidden by the others in one corner, is a tiny pink pansy, a black rose, and a yellow sweet pea. A great bee buzzes past me and wakes me from my dreams. I go back to the little marigold that has for so long been chocked with grass and weeds. —3 marks to Cousin Ray McLeay M.A.C. (13), Otahu, Otautau-Black-mount R.D. i

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

My garden is an old fashioned one. The flowers are growing here and there in nooks and corners.

The spring flowers in my opinion are best of all. I have a bed of violets, and the scent fills the air. The violet flowers are beautiful, hidden amongst the leaves.

The golden daffodils and narcissi hold up their heads in the sunshine on their long stems, making a glorious sight. Also I have a polyanthus border, with such an array of brightly coloured flowers with their sheath-like leaves.

Just around the corner, there is a lovely bed of wallflowers. The corner I like best is where my sister and I play. There is a summerhouse grown over with creepers. Little paths run among the bushes, and, along the way, are shamrocks, pansies and the old fashioned Granny Bonnets. Blue-bells and Foxgloves growing among the bushes make this a real old fashioned garden. —3 marks to Cousin Gladys Middleton (11), Lora Gorge.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

At home in my garden, I have some daffodils and primroses, and crocuses, and violets, and pansies, and roses. The first to be out were the daffodils, then the crocuses and violets, then the primroses and pansies, and last of all the roses. I watered them every day and weeded them and at last everything looked so nice that I had to be proud. The daffodils and roses won a prize

of a shilling at the flower show, and that made me prouder than ever. I did boast a bit, but I could not help that, neither could you. When the winter came, I was very sad, because my garden would not bloom except for two little trees that were evergreen.

So I had to be content with it. I watered it and weeded it, so that they could sleep in peace for the winter. And when the spring came I was very happy. You can be sure that I was. —3 marks to Cousin Nanette Sumpter (9), 32 Alice street.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

Growing in my garden are many bright and sweet-smelling flowers, about which play hundreds of jolly and merry fairies all through the sunny days.

Waving their gold banners in the gentle spring breeze are the stately daffodils of all sizes. Peeping up above the ground are a few delicate snowdrops, and round the border of this square garden, are many coloured pansies most of them yellow. There are many clumps of sweet scented violets which attract the large, unpleasant looking, bumble-bees. —3 marks to Cousin Mabel Clarke A.C. (12), South Hillend R.D., Winton.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

How glad I am when spring comes, and all the gardens are in bloom with the pretty flowers. There are daffodils, primroses, snowdrops, violets, and other flowers that bloom.

How pretty the daffodil is with its big trumpet, and the snowdrop with its wee white flowers that you can hardly see. So won’t I be sorry when spring is gone. I hope it will come again. —3 marks to Cousin Margaret Kirkwood (9), South Hillend.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— I suppose most girls have flowergardens of their very own. For a neat looking border on my garden-plot, I have violets, which make a decent border.

I have daffodils, crocuses, violets, primroses, and a few cuttings from the surrounding trees. The heavy hail is an enemy to the flowers, which cannot stand rough treatment. My garden is near some tall trees, which protect it from destroying storms.

With a hoe I gently loosen the top soil on my garden. ' On some of my flowers I put sticks. One is the sweet-pea, which grows rapidly in springtime. —3 marks to Cousin Betty Habgood (8), Gummies Bush.