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Excerpt from American Agriculturalist, Vol. XIX-No. 5,
May 1860.
May
Flowers
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"The
flowery May, who from her green lap throws
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The
yellow cowslip and the pale primrose." -MILTON |
Our
picture is a little too early, perhaps, for this month, in
some parts of the north, but for our latitude, and all south
of us, it gives the true spirit of the season. The spring
has come with all its joyous associations. The snow squalls
are past, the April showers are over, and one may safely venture
out for the day, without overcoat and umbrella.
You
have here, in the foreground, a family group beneath two majestic
trees standing upon the banks of a stream. You see on the
right a little patch of water with aquatic plants at the edge,
and the dog who has just come out from a bath, as full of
fun and frolic as the merriest biped in the company. The whole
party is in motion, and the younger members have on their
high-heeled shoes. Every face wears the eager air of expectation,
even the baby, who stretches up its little hand to the green
boughs of the old oak, like older people, reaching after that
which is too high for its grasp.
They
have gathered their spoils, cowslips from the brook, flowers
from the hedges, evergreens from the woods, and are bound
home or to the village green, where they will meet other family
parties and join the frolic around the May pole. You miss
the husband and father in the group, and this is one of the
excellences of the artist, for he shows his power in a picture
quite as much by what he suggests, as by what he portrays.
The fact is, the old gentleman has turned boy, and you will
find him down the stream a few rods, where it plunges over
a rocky bed, casting his fly for trout. A brace of speckled
beauties, a foot long or more, are already in his basket,
and he confidently expects a dozen from the same rapids. It
is of no use to speak to him now, for he has glorious sport,
and nothing short of a drowning child would call him off until
his basket is filled.
In
the background you see other parties Maying, the peaceful
kine lying in the meadows, the green woods, the spire of the
village church, and the distant hill tops, a scene of rural
beauty that will make every citizen long to pack his trunk,
and start for the country. The reality, we suspect, is quite
as pleasant as the picture; and this month will find our readers,
some of them in the far south enjoying green peas, tomatoes,
and new potatoes, but the larger number, reveling in the vision
of meadows in their freshest green, in blooming orchards and
gardens, in the hum of bees and bird songs, wandering
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"Through
fields of floral silver and gold, |
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Catching
the apple tree's breath and bloom." |
Editor's
Note: This is a reprint of an article published in 1860. It
describes what was recommended in accordance with the knowledge
and practices of the day. While reading it, please consider
this fact.
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