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第24章与美丽邂逅（6）
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Inthem，thesuroalgreencloud-puffsofthepiheskyisdfulloflife，thewaterrunshastily，stillbrowjuiceofcrushedolives.Ah’sbowlofcrocusesisamazing.Youotbelievethattheflowersarereallystill.Theyareopenwithsuchdelight，ailthrustisse，andtheyaresomany，allreagoutwideahatitsuggestsaperfectecstasyofradiant，thro-upvioletande，andsurginginsomeihmofcerted，delightfulmovement.Youotbelievetheydonotmove，andmakesomesortofesou.Ifyousitstillandwatch，youbegihem，likemovingwiththestars，ahesoundoftheirradiahelittlecellsoftheflowersmustbeleapingwithflowerylifeandutterance.
AndnowthatitisMarch，thereisarushofflowers.Dowream，whissidewaystothesun，ahebrierandbramble，dowhehelleborehasstoodsowananddignifiedallwiherearesofprimroses，suddehetangleahe，tuftsandbunroses，inabuheylookmoreallid，moreflimsythanEnglishprimroses.Theylaeofthefullwohenortherehem，totur，solemn-facedpurplevioletsthatrearupfromthebank，aothewoletowersofthegrapehyath.
Thisisthetime，inMarthesloeiswhiteandmistyiahestream，andontheslopeoflareestandspinkahealmondblossom，silverypink，ispassing，butthepeach，deep-toallethereal，thisrevealsitselflikeflesh，areesarelikeisolatedindividuals，thepeadtheapricot.Itissospidsoindividual，thatpinkamongtheinggreen，becausethefirstflowersthatemergefromwinterseemalwayswhiteoryelloworpurple.Nowtheesareout，andalohepodere，thebig，sturdy，black-purpleahblackhearts.
Thedaisiesareouttoo，iheytoored-mouthed.ThefirstandhaasMar，thedwihtlittlethitons，together.Thatmeanssummerisnearlyhere.
Ihereareoddyellowtulips，slender，spikyandese-looking.Theyareverylouttheirdulledyellowinslimspikes.Buttheytoosoonlean，expahemselves，andaregonelikeanillusion.
Aulipsaregohereisamoment’spause，beforesummer.Summeristhemove.
IowardstheendofApril，whentheflowersseemtohesitate，theleavesmakeuptheirmindstoeout.Forsometime，attheveryendshsoffigtrees，spurtsreenhavebeenburleguesofgreenfirevividoipsofthedelabrusofgree，aaketheshapeofhands，feelingfortheairofsummer.Andtinygreehem，likeglaofagoat.
Noensonthehillareallremarkablewiththetramembranesofblood-veiheyaregold-brown，butumhinwingsbatswhenlikebirds—callthembirds—theywheelincloudsagaiingsun，andthesunglhthestretchedmembraheirwings，asthroughthin，browainedglass.Thisistheredsapofsummer，ofautumn.
&reeissomethingthesame，butmoresturdy.Now，iril，theisstillwhite，butassingaway:itislatethisyear，andtheleavesaregthidsoftlytheirdarkblood-filledglow.Itisqueeraboutfruittreesinthisdistrict.Thepearandthepeachwereouttogether.Butreeisalovelythiessofnewandglossygreen，vividwithatenderfullnessofapple-greenleaves，gleamingamohergreenofthelahehalf-highwheat，emerald，andthegreyolive，half-ihebrowhedarkcypress，theblackoftheevergreenoftheheavygreenpuffsofthestoheflimsygreenofsmallpeadalmourdyyounggree.Somanygreens，allinflakesailtedtablesandroundshouldersandplumesandshagglesanduprisenbushes，ofgreensaimesblindinglybrilliantatevehelandscapelooksasifitwereonfirefromihgreennessandwithgold.
Ihescrub-oakisonlyjustinguhepiheirholdoheyarewintrythings，stoChristmas，theirheavygreencloudsarerichlybeautiful.Whenthecypressesrisetheirtallandnakedbodiesreen，andtheosiersarevividred-e，oillblueair，andthelahen，inmid-wihelabeautifulincwithcolour.
Notthatthisweekisflowerless.Buttheflowersarealittlelohihere:theearlypurpleorchid，ruddyandverymuchalive，youeacrossoally，thelegroupsofbee-orchids，withtheirraggeddiffereheirappearaherearethehugebud-spikesofthestout，thickflpinkebudslikefatearsofleaalreadyoddgrai-earareopen，andoutsthedelikragoffloweret.Alsothereareverylovelyand-cloutedorchidswithbrownspotsontheloelip.Thesegrowipladhaveexotiderspikes，veryrare-seeming.Anotherorchidisalittle，prettyyellowone.
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