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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
7
The
borders
under
the
south
windows
of
the
house,
so
empty
and
melancholy
this
time
last
year,
are
crammed
with
them,
and
are
finished
off
in
front
by
a
broad
strip
from
end
to
end
of
yellow
and
white
pansies.
The
tea
rose
beds
round
the
sun-dial
facing
these
borders
are
sheets
of
white,
and
golden,
and
purple,
and
wine-red
pansies,
with
the
dainty
red
shoots
of
the
tea
roses
presiding
delicately
in
their
midst.
The
verandah
steps
leading
down
into
this
pansy
paradise
have
boxes
of
white,
and
pink,
and
yellow
tulips
all
the
way
up
on
each
side,
and
on
the
lawn,
behind
the
roses,
are
two
big
beds
of
every
coloured
tulip
rising
above
a
carpet
of
forget-me-nots.
How
very
much
more
charming
different-coloured
tulips
are
together
than
tulips
in
one
colour
by
itself!
Last
year,
on
the
recommendation
of
sundry
writers
about
gardens,
I
tried
beds
of
scarlet
tulips
and
forget-me-nots.
They
were
pretty
enough;
but
I
wish
those
writers
could
see
my
beds
of
mixed
tulips.
I
never
saw
anything
so
sweetly,
delicately
gay.
The
only
ones
I
exclude
are
the
rose-coloured
ones;
but
scarlet,
gold,
delicate
pink,
and
white
are
all
there,
and
the
effect
is
infinitely
enchanting.
The
forget-me-nots
grow
taller
as
the
tulips
go
off,
and
will
presently
tenderly
engulf
them
altogether,
and
so
hide
the
shame
of
their
decay
in
their
kindly
little
arms.
They
will
be
left
there,
clouds
of
gentle
blue,
until
the
tulips
are
well
withered,
and
then
they
will
be
taken
away
to
make
room
for
the
scarlet
geraniums
that
are
to
occupy
these
two
beds
in
the
summer
and
flare
in
the
sun
as
much
as
they
like.
I
love
an
occasional
mass
of
fiery
colour,
and
these
two
will
make
the
lilies
look
even
whiter
and
more
breathless
that
are
to
stand
sentinel
round
the
semicircle
containing
the
precious
tea
roses.
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