A Perfect Month
When the dreary records of English weather are examined by future generations the month of March, 1938, will appear like an illuminated address. The whole month, at least as far as the 26th, has had some quality of illumination that has been lyrical. In the south it was so warm that by the middle of the month roses were bursting their buds on the walls of houses ; delphiniums were in places tall enough to be staked, lilies grew at the rate of almost a foot a week; and in a small unheated greenhouse it was possible to germinate the hard bullet seeds of lup;t1 in two days, a record for any time of the year. One other thing : it has been an annus mirabilis for all kinds of wild violet. The white have been as thick and large as snowdrops ; the pale mauve and dark purple almost like banks of viola cornuta. The rare pink variety, perhaps a garden escape too, has been thicker and richer than ever. And finally, that cross between pale mauve and white, producing a kind of iris grey, the flowers like so many pale suspended moths. All have been as perfect as the warmest March ever recorded in these islands.
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