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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
56
There
is
something
so
utterly
gentle
and
tender
about
sweet-peas,
something
so
endearing
in
their
clinging,
winding,
yielding
growth;
and
then
the
long
straight
stalk,
and
the
perfect
little
winged
flower
at
the
top,
with
its
soft,
pearly
texture
and
wonderful
range
and
combination
of
colours--all
of
them
pure,
all
of
them
satisfying,
not
an
ugly
one,
or
even
a
less
beautiful
one
among
them.
And
in
the
house,
next
to
a
china
bowl
of
roses,
there
is
no
arrangement
of
flowers
so
lovely
as
a
bowl
of
sweet-peas,
or
a
Delf
jar
filled
with
them.
What
a
mass
of
glowing,
yet
delicate
colour
it
is!
How
prettily,
the
moment
you
open
the
door,
it
seems
to
send
its
fragrance
to
meet
you!
And
how
you
hang
over
it,
and
bury
your
face
in
it,
and
love
it,
and
cannot
get
away
from
it.
I
really
am
sorry
for
all
the
people
in
the
world
who
miss
such
keen
pleasure.
It
is
one
that
each
person
who
opens
his
eyes
and
his
heart
may
have;
and
indeed,
most
of
the
things
that
are
really
worth
having
are
within
everybody's
reach.
Any
one
who
chooses
to
take
a
country
walk,
or
even
the
small
amount
of
trouble
necessary
to
get
him
on
to
his
doorstep
and
make
him
open
his
eyes,
may
have
them,
and
there
are
thousands
of
them
thrust
upon
us
by
nature,
who
is
for
ever
giving
and
blessing,
at
every
turn
as
we
walk.
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