Canville Communications: Article
Are you awake? whispered a little blue crocus to a white one,
who had been sleeping by her side under the earth for months.
Yes, wide awake, and warm all through. I am sure it must be Spring,
the little white one answered.
Oh, yes, this is Spring, whispered blue. Our shoots have been
out a week, and all that time the sun has felt warm. Suppose we
bloom; the earth will be so glad to see a flower again.
Im willing, responded little white crocus. I want nothing
so much as to help make the world beautiful and tell people the
Spring has come, so let us send round a crocus murmur to all the
flower -beds, parks and gardens in the big city; then they will
know it is time to wake up and bloom.
Dont venture out yet, a tulip bulb grumbled from her earth-bed
a few inches below the little crocus. March is only half gone,
and you know old Winter will never let him alone. There will be
awful cold winds before April comes. You had better stay where
you are and keep warm.
Dear! oh, dear! sighed blue and white, we dread the freezing
winds. Perhaps, Miss Tulip, you are wrong. I am sure we ought
to be out.
Let us venture, urged a tiny pink crocus near by. We can at
least show Mr. Winter that Spring has come, and that he must go
away. Come, let us do our best and not be afraid of a little cold.
So a crocus murmur went round to all the flower-beds, parks and
gardens in the big city, telling the little crocus flowers to
wake up and bloom. The next morning everything was beautified
by thousands of spring messengers holding up their tiny bell-cups
to the sunsome white, some yellow, some blue, and a few pink.
The earth was glad to hold on her breast again such beauty. Even
the people passing stopped, smiled and said with confidence, Now, spring has really come.
Alas! there was one who gave the flowers no welcome. It was Mr.
Winter. I feel indignant, he complained to March, That such
tiny little flowers dare come up and make me feel uncomfortable
and out of place. Now, I suppose I must take my departure, but
before I leave, dear March, you must let me give them a fright
and a chill.
Oh, Mr. Winter! begged March, shivering and bewildered, please
leave me and go away. I cant control my winds when you keep interfering,
you mix me all up. Here you come with snow and cold trying to
kill the pretty green things that I have had such trouble to wake
out of the frozen ground.
Then Mr. Winter sent a gray snow-cloud to cover the sun, and breathed
an icy air into the March wind.
He laughed when a few feathery flakes settled on his nose. Only
a day more; give me just one day more, friend March, he begged.
I will then go and shut myself up in my big cave for a long snooze.
March nodded his consent, and together they started like a wild
express train. The whole thing was a frolic, after all. As the
snow covered the flowers it whispered, Do not fear, I will keep
you folded warm until this cold wind blows Mr. Winter away.
The wind was not only merry but busy also. It blew light green
into all the willows, red into the maples, a faint white into
the plum and apple buds; it tore the dead leaves away from the
sweet arbutus, it played a regular game with ladies skirts and
veils, it took off mens hats, and the noses and cheeks that came
in its way were painted a deep red. By night all was over and
Mr. Winter had departed. A soft breath of April filled the air.
As it swept gently over the snow it said, Melt at once; you are
sadly out of place covering spring flowers.
With the morning came a perfect flood of sunshine and warmth,
so the birds began to sing.
Oh, how glad I am, laughed the little blue crocus, that we
came out just when we did.
Im glad. And so am I glad. And so are we glad. All the