elizabeth and her german garden-第6节
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a keyhole and see the dauntless little lady； terrible in her wrath and dignity； standing on tiptoe to box the ears of some great strapping girl big enough to eat her。
The making of cheese and butter and sausages _excellently_ well is a work which requires brains； and is； to my thinking； a very admirable form of activity； and entirely worthy of the attention of the intelligent。 That my neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident by the bright alertness of her eyeseyes that nothing escapes； and that only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose。 She is a recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries of sausage…making； the care of calves； and the slaughtering of swine； and with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home； her children are patterns of health and neatness； and of what dear little German children； with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick legs； should be。 Who shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and unworthy of a high order of intelligence？ I protest that to me it is a beautiful life； full of wholesome outdoor work； and with no room for those listless moments of depression and boredom； and of wondering what you will do next； that leave wrinkles round a pretty woman's eyes； and are not unknown even to the most brilliant。 But while admiring my neighbour； I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps； my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety； but rather of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow； and； sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream； forget the very existence of everything but green pastures and still waters； and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields。 And it would make me perfectly wretched to be confronted by ears so refractory as to require boxing。
Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude； and it is on these occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is； and how far away from his neighbour； and while they talk （generally about babies； past； present； and to come）； I fall to wondering at the vast and impassable distance that separates one's own soul from the soul of the person sitting in the next chair。 I am speaking of comparative strangers； people who are forced to stay a certain time by the eccentricities of trains； and in whose presence you grope about after common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that you have none。 Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute more benumbed and speechless； and the babies feel the frost in the air and look vacant； and the callers go through the usual form of wondering who they most take after； generally settling the question by saying that the May baby； who is the beauty； is like her father； and that the two more or less plain ones are the image of me； and this decision； though I know it of old and am sure it is coming； never fails to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first time。 The babies are very little and inoffensive and good； and it is hard that they should be used as a means of filling up gaps in conversation； and their features pulled to pieces one by one； and all their weak points noted and criticised； while they stand smiling shyly in the operator's face； their very smile drawing forth comments on the shape of their mouths； but； after all； it does not occur very often； and they are one of those few interests one has in common with other people； as everybody seems to have babies。 A garden； I have discovered； is by no means a fruitful topic； and it is amazing how few persons really love theirsthey all pretend they do； but you can hear by the very tone of their voice what a lukewarm affection it is。 About June their interest is at its warmest； nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses； but on reflection I don't know a single person within twenty miles who really cares for his garden； or has discovered the treasures of happiness that are buried in it； and are to be found if sought for diligently； and if needs be with tears。 It is after these rare calls that I experience the only moments of depression from which I ever suffer； and then I am angry at myself； a well…nourished person； for allowing even a single precious hour of life to be spoil： by anything so indifferent。 That is the worst of being fed enough； and clothed enough； and warmed enough； and of having everything you can reasonably desire on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy by such abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach to your neighbour's soul； which is on the face of it foolish； the probability being that he hasn't got one。
The rockets are all out。 The gardener； in a fit of inspiration； put them right along the very front of two borders； and I don't know what his feelings can be now that they are all flowering and the plants behind are completely hidden； but I have learned another lesson； and no future gardener shall be allowed to run riot among my rockets in quite so reckless a fashion。 They are charming things； as delicate in colour as in scent； and a bowl of them on my writing…table fills the room with fragrance。 Single rows； however； are a mistake； I had masses of them planted in the grass； and these show how lovely they can be。 A border full of rockets； mauve and white； and nothing else； must be beautiful； but I don't know how long they last nor what they look like when they have done flowering。 This I shall find out in a week or two； I suppose。 Was ever a would…be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering？ No doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to learn solely by my failures； and if I had some kind creature to tell me when to do things。 At present the only flowers in the garden are the rockets； the pansies in the rose beds； and two groups of azaleas mollis and pontica。 The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous； I only planted them this spring and they almost at once began to flower； and the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were filled with imprisoned and perpetual sunsets。 Orange； lemon； pink in every delicate shadewhat they will be next year and in succeeding years when the bushes are bigger； I can imagine from the way they have begun life。 On gray； dull days the effect is absolutely startling。 Next autumn I shall make a great bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a gloomy nook。 My tea…roses are covered with buds which will not open for at least another week； so I conclude this is not the sort of climate where they will flower from the very beginning of June to November； as they are said to do。
July 11th。There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday； five weeks ago； which partly； but not entirely； accounts for the disappointment my beds have been。 The dejected gardener went mad soon after Whitsuntide； and had to be sent to an asylum。 He took to going about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other； explaining that he felt safer that way； and we bore it quite patiently； as becomes civilised beings who respect each other's prejudices； until one day； when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper and after he bought the revolver my tones in addressing him were of the mildest； and I quite left off reading to him aloud he turned round； looked me straight in the face for the first time since he has been here； and said； 〃Do I look like Graf X… （a great local celebrity）； or like a monkey？〃 After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as expeditiously as possible。 There was no gardener to be had in his place； and I have only just succeeded in getting one； so that what with the drought； and the neglect； and the gardener's madness； and my blunders； the garden is in a sad condition； but even in a sad condition it is the dearest place in the world； and all my mistakes only make me more determined to persevere。
The long borders； where the rockets were； are looking dreadful。 The rockets have done flowering； and； after the manner of rockets： in other walks of life； have degenerated into sticks； and nothing else in those borders intends to bloom this summer。 The giant poppies I had planted out in them in April have either died off or remained quite small； and so have the columbines； here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly； and that is all。 I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved； or perhaps they were not watered enough at the time of transplanting； anyhow； those borders are going to be sown to…morrow with more poppies for next year； for poppies I will have； whether they like it or not； and they shall not be touched； only thinned out。
Well； it is no use being grieved； and after all； directly I come out and sit under the trees； and look at the dappled sky； and see the sunshine on the cornfields away on the plain； all the disappointment smooths itself out； and it seems impossible to be sad and discontented when everything about me is so radiant and kind。
To…day is Sunday； and the garden is so quiet； that； sitting here in this shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across the grass； and listening to the
