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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
110
I
spent
a
very
happy
afternoon
in
that
little
English
paradise,
but
I
came
away
quite
joyfully,
and
with
many
a
loving
thought
of
my
own
dear
ragged
garden,
and
all
the
corners
in
it
where
the
anemones
twinkle
in
the
spring
like
stars,
and
where
there
is
so
much
nature
and
so
little
art.
It
will
grow
I
know
sweeter
every
year,
but
it
is
too
big
ever
to
be
perfect
and
to
get
to
look
so
immaculate
that
the
diseased
imagination
conjures
up
visions
of
housemaids
issuing
forth
each
morning
in
troops
and
dusting
every
separate
flower
with
feather
brushes.
Nature
herself
is
untidy,
and
in
a
garden
she
ought
to
come
first,
and
Art
with
her
brooms
and
clipping-shears
follow
humbly
behind.
Art
has
such
a
good
time
in
the
house,
where
she
spreads
herself
over
the
walls,
and
hangs
herself
up
gorgeously
at
the
windows,
and
lurks
in
the
sofa
cushions,
and
breaks
out
in
an
eruption
of
pots
wherever
pots
are
possible,
that
really
she
should
be
content
to
take
the
second
place
out
of
doors.
And
how
dreadful
to
meet
a
gardener
and
a
wheelbarrow
at
every
turn--which
is
precisely
what
happens
to
one
in
the
perfect
garden.
My
gardener,
whose
deafness
is
more
than
compensated
for
by
the
keenness
of
his
eyesight,
very
soon
remarked
the
scowl
that
distorted
my
features
whenever
I
met
one
of
his
assistants
in
my
favourite
walks,
and
I
never
meet
them
now.
I
think
he
must
keep
them
chained
up
to
the
cucumber-frames,
so
completely
have
they
disappeared,
and
he
only
lets
them
loose
when
he
knows
I
am
driving,
or
at
meals,
or
in
bed.
But
is
it
not
irritating
to
be
sitting
under
your
favourite
tree,
pencil
in
hand,
and
eyes
turned
skywards
expectant
of
the
spark
from
heaven
that
never
falls,
and
then
to
have
a
man
appear
suddenly
round
the
corner
who
immediately
begins
quite
close
to
you
to
tear
up
the
earth
with
his
fangs?
No
one
will
ever
know
the
number
of
what
I
believe
are
technically
known
as
winged
words
that
I
have
missed
bringing
down
through
interruptions
of
this
kind.
Indeed,
as
I
look
through
these
pages
I
see
I
must
have
missed
them
all,
for
I
can
find
nothing
anywhere
with
even
a
rudimentary
approach
to
wings.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
