Mother Earth is pulsing with new life. Wide fields of early rye, set in motion by the soft breezes, roll forth their gratitude in rich, emerald undulations. Robin and bob-white rent the air with their bright gladness. The fragrant petals of peach and apple blossoms fall and lay in sensate caress upon the earth, producing that harmony of odor and color known only to spring in the South. Trailing berry-vines climbing over a rustic fence form a background of graceful, waving green. The bewildering shades of grays and greens in the deeper woods intoxicate the eye and inspire the inner man with the promise of new life. O, the satisfaction of heart-hunger and soul-thirst in the contemplation of reviving nature!

M.F. Canfield

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