To Dig One's Own Spade Into One's

Let Us Be Honest: Most Of Us Rather Like Our Cats To Have A Streak Of Wickedness. I Should Not Feel Quite Easy In The Company Of Any Cat That Walked Around The House With A Saintly Expression.

Last Summer I Was Staying At A House In Hampshire Which Was Famous For The Brilliance And The Originality Of Its Gardens. There Were Many Of Them, But The Most Beautiful Of All Was A Walled Garden In Which Every Flower Was Blue. There Were All The Obvious Things Like Delphiniums And Acronitums And Larkspurs, But The Most Beautiful Blue Of All Came From The Groups Of Cabbages - The Ordinary Blue Pickling Cabbage. Set Against The Blazing Blue Of The Other Flowers, It Had A Bloom And Elegance Which Made It A Thing Of The Greatest Delight.

Most People, Early In November, Take Last Looks At Their Gardens, Are Are Then Prepared To Ignore Them Until The Spring. I Am Quite Sure That A Garden Doesn't Like To Be Ignored Like This. It Doesn't Like To Be Covered In Dust Sheets, As Though It Were An Old Room Which You Had Shut Up During The Winter. Especially Since A Garden Knows How Gay And Delightful It Can Be, Even In The Very Frozen Heart Of The Winter, If You Only Give It A Chance.

Marriage Is A Book Of Which The First Chapter Is Written In Poetry And The Remaining Chapters In Prose.

Long Experience Has Taught Me That People Who Do Not Like Geraniums Have Something Morally Unsound About Them. Sooner Or Later You Will Find Them Out; You Will Discover That They Drink, Or Steal Books, Or Speak Sharply To Cats. Never Trust A Man Or A Woman Who Is Not Passionately Devoted To Geraniums.