THE TIME OF YEAR I LIKE BEST

Southland Times, Issue 23782, 1 April 1939, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE TIME OF YEAR I LIKE BEST

—PRIZE— Many/years ago there lived a Fairy Season and her four daughters, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. One day their mother told them that they could go down to the earth for a holiday. “You must all put on your best dresses,” she said, “and you must choose the time of the year you like best, and all go in turns,” . t “May Igo now,” said Autumn. “There is so much to do just now.” “Very well,” said Mother Season, kissing her daughter goodbye. “Put on your lovely red and gold frock.” What fun little Autumn had. She skipped among the tree tops, painting the leaves yellow, red, brown and gold. While she was passing she knocked off many leayes and .they fluttered to the ground. When she came to the fruit trees she tasted the fruit, and sprinkling some, honey dew on them to. make them sweet enough, she flew off. Next she came to some blackberry bushes, and this time she poured some black paint over their fruit. < t In the meadows she woke up all the mushrooms, then she tripped across the fields and turned the corp, to a beautiful yellow. Then one day little Autumn wandered down to the beach and there she saw many picnic parties, so taking her red and brown paints she darted in and out amongst them. Very soon little Autumn began to feel quite chilly, so drawing her red and gold cloak around her, she hurried home to see her mother and sisters again.

Now every year the four sisters come to pay the earth a visit, but I think the time I like best is when the little Autumn Fairy comes. —Prize of 1/- to Cousin Valerie Fox, A.C. (8), 57 Conyers street.

—PRIZE—

As Professor Long Whiskers entered a sudden hush came over the class, and the boys rose politely to greet him. “Good morning boys.” “Good morning sir.”

“Today you will write an essay on ‘The Time of the Year I Like Best.’ Now, by your faces, I can tell you are not pleased with my choice of subject, but just think for a moment and you will realize how simple it really is.” In a far corner of the room sat Bobtail Bunny laboriously chewing the end of his pen. He was obviously deep in thought, for he had a far away look in his eyes as if he were not in the classroom but out with his thoughts. Suddenly he came to life and wrote, “The time of the year I like best is when Farmer Brown’s turnips mature. “For days the rabbits plan a midnight visit to his fields, hours of feasting and a dance on the slopes of a hill. When the moon has walked half her path across the heavens, a band of rabbits swoops down the hillside to the gorgeous turnip patch. On this great occasion manners are forgotten, you eat as much as you like, you can say something about Peter Angora’s whiskers without being reprimanded for doing so, and on the whole everyone minds his own business as every good, rabbit should. Just now I can taste those luscious fruits of the ground, I can feel their tender skins against my teeth, I can drink the juice from the pulp and feel my joy once more as I root up a still better one.

“Sorrowfully we realize we have eaten as much as possible, so we wend our way up the hillside to the moonlit dancing ground. It is usual at this time foy the Rabbits’ Rag-time Band to strike up, a note as a signal for the dancers to begin. Probably the first dance will be a Bunny Hop so that the very full stomachs .will become less compact. After about twelve dances and a few extras, people begin to bid each other farewell and trudge off home to their burrows. Many retrace their footsteps tc Farmer Brown’s paddock where they have a second helping of those turnips full and fine. If it is possible I always join the latter. I try to make that short time a little longer. "Ah me! Why can’t Farmer Brown’s turnips ripen quicker and those nights last longer? Alas, why can’t our stomachs hold more?” —Prize of 1/- to Cousin Jacqueline Reid (13), 107 Lewis street. —PRIZE— In the springtime, when - the fields are all green, the little lambs skip gleefully about among the white daisies. Pretty birds fly busily to and fro building their nests, and the trees and flowers show tiny green leaf-buds against their brown stems. Lovely golden daffodils sway gently in the warm breeze, and Nature seems to be awakening after a long sleep. During the Autumn, when the trees are shedding their red, gold, yellow and brown leaves, when the fruit hangs ripe and juicy on the houghs, and the golden corn is being cut, the wofld looks very beautiful indeed.

When the cold, grey winter comes and the trees stand leafless in the bitter cold, when the little birds have flown off to warmer lands, Nature herself seems to be sleeping ’neath a pure white blanket of snow.

In the glorious summer time everything is awake and happy. The birds send forth a melody of song from morning till night, and the cattle lie drowsily in the pastures lazily chewing their cud, and occasionally flicking off a stray butterfly, with their tails. Happy children

run to the edge of the beach, and dive into the rippling waters, laughing gaily as the -waves tumble them over, tossing the salt spray in their eyes. ... Yes, I love the summer best, for then is the time for picnics, parties cycling, hiking, swimming, playing tennis, and rambling about on craggj hillsides. In the bush starry clematis clings to the trees, pepping shyly our into the sunshine, and rata’s red blossoms, and mistletoe’s crimson flowers, show brightly through the dark green foliage. In the gardens sweet peas cling to fences or palings, red and cream roses nod their pretty heads in the sunshine, and all the other flowers join together in making summer the loveliest season of the year. —Prize of 1/- to Cousin Iris 'Winsloe, A.C. <jl4), Merrivale R.D., Otautau. ' —PRIZE— Of all the times of the year I like springtime best. All the gardens are masses of colour. Here in a corner shaded by a trellis work fence, can be seen a sjiy, modest, violet peeping out from behind a clump oi dark green leaves. Under the old elm tree golden daffodils dance gaily in the midday sun, while the continuous humming of the busy bees is heard as they fly from flower to flower. In the middle of a well-kept lawn of emerald green is a square plot in which primroses grow abundantly. The border of this plot consists of pale lavender crocuses, intermingled with snow-drops which hang their delicate heads as though they are too heavy for their slender stems. Let us take a peep at the bush? As we> walk among the dark green and russet ferns at the edge of the bush that make it like the gate to Fairyland, we can hear the silvery notes of the bellbird. When we wend our way further into the bush we fan see busy birds carrying wisps of straw, grass and many other things with which they will build their nests. Entwined among of the many ancient trees, starry white clematis can be seen rearing its graceful head towards the summit of the tree. The faint babble of the brook can be heard as it winds its way through trees and tangled undergrowth and over little boulders of rocks to meet the river.

Out in the country little lambs frisk and frolic in the green fields. These fields are surrounded by gorse hedges which send out their sweet smell to welcome all the hewcomers to the country. In the background the opaque clouds of smoke from some bonfire can be seen lazily towering into the heavens, adding a new charm and'beauty to,our picture. Spring, coming as it does after the long dreary, months of winter, is e tonic to both old and young, and to me it will always be my favourite time of the year. —Prize of 17- to Cousin Margaret Adam (13), 83 Newcastle Street.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—

The time-of the year I like best is Christmas. I do like school, but I am glad of six weeks’ holiday at the end of the year. When I was small I was always glad when Christmas came because I thought it great fun opening my stocking and seeing what Father Christmas brought me. I do not hang up my stocking n but I always receive presents from cousins and friends. I also lik, Christmas because it is holiday time. The last four summers, we have been to Stewart Island; and that, i think, is the most beautiful place I have seen. There we bathe, fish and picnic all the long summer days. In the holidays I have plenty of time to write letters and read the iuvenile library books. I do like winter also, but I have quite decided I like Christmas the best of all. —3 marks to Cousin Anne Turnbull (9), Gummies Bush R.D. —VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— The time of the year I like best is autumn time. Autumn is a very pretty time, as we all know. With the sun shining on the pretty yellows, oranges, reds and browns of the leaves it is a lovely sight, and everywhere you look you see the rust-brown of the wheat and tlje lighter colour of the oats. It is fun to follow the binder when the men are cutting the oats or wheat, and also to ride on the drays whan they are leading in. How everyone enjoys the billy of tea, and the lunch out in the paddock. Every now and then when a gust of wind blows hundreds of thistle seeds into the air, you think it is beginning to snow. The days begin to get shorter but they are mostly

bright and sunny with cool nights. —3 marks to Cousin Audrey Blanks (12), Otapiri R.D., Winton.

-VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— Out of the four seasons of the year I like spring best, when the darling little lambs come and we see them frisking in the paddock with their mothers.

There are fluffy yellow chickens chirping to their mothers in the henrun. In the garden I like to see the white snow-drops pushing their way through the ground, and the yellow crocuses and purple violets making the garden pretty. Everything is waking up after the long winter sleep. —3 marks to Cousin Pauline Poppelwell (8), 1 Ardwick street, Gore.

—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— I like the summer time best, when the schools are closed and I can go to the country. I remember having a holiday once on a cattle-sta-tion.

I arrived there at 9.30 in the morning. It was a neat little house surrounded by trees, and a river ran close by. After dinner I went for a ride on a chestnut pony. I spent many glorious days riding and swimming.

The weather was beautiful and hot, and I was as brown as a berry when I came home. I was sqrry when it was time to leave. How I enjoy those' summer months of sunshine.

—3 marks to Cousin • Alexander McCleery V.A.C., (10), 193 Ritchie street.