"And over walls and earth and trees and swinging sprays and tendrils the fair green veil of tender little leaves had crept, and in the grass under the trees . . . and here and there everywhere were touches or splashes of gold and purple and white . . .
". . . and the trees were showing pink and snow . . . and there were fluttering of wings and faint sweet pipes and humming and scents and scents. And the sun fell warm . . ."
The book captures beautifully the magical reawakening of the Earth in springtime.
And while I don't have a secret garden with tall stone walls and roses running wild, there is beauty on every hand just now.
Crocuses and star magnolia . . .
The yellow bells of the forsythia . . .
Tight-curled chartreuse buds of the wild spice bush . . .
And the jaunty catkins of the black pussy willow doff their caps to the approaching spring