The Endless Story

       There was once a child who lived in a little hut, and in the hut there was nothing but a little bed, and a looking-glass which hung in a dark corner. Now the child cared nothing at all about the looking-glass, but as soon as the first sunbeam glided softly through the casement and kissed his eyelids, and the finch and the linnet waked him merrily with their morning songs, he jumped out of bed and, dressing quickly, ran out into the green meadow. There he begged flour of the primrose, and sugar of the violet, and butter of the buttercup; he shook the dewdrops from the cowslip into the cup of a harebell; spread out a large lime-leaf, set his breakfast upon it, and feasted daintily. Sometimes he invited a humming bee, oftener a gay butterfly, to share his feast; but his favorite guest was the blue dragonfly. The bee murmured a good deal, in a solemn tone, about his riches; but the child thought that if he were a bee, heaps of treasure would not make him gay and happy; and that it must be much more delightful and glorious to float about in the free and fresh breezes of spring, and to hum joyously in the web of the sunbeams, than, with heavy feet and heavy heart, to stow the silver wax and the golden honey into cells. 

        To this the butterfly agreed, and he told how, once on a time, he too had been greedy and sordid; how he had thought of nothing but eating, and had never once turned his eyes upwards to the blue heavens. At length, however, a complete change had come over him and, instead of crawling spiritless about the earth, half dreaming, he all at once awakened as out of a deep sleep. And now he could rise into the air and play with the light, reflect the heavens in the bright eyes of his wings, and listen to the soft language of the flowers, and catch their secrets. Such stories delighted the child, and his breakfast was the sweeter to him, and the sunshine on leaf and flower seemed to him more bright and cheering. But when the bee had flown off to beg from flower to flower, and the butterfly had fluttered away to his playfellows, the dragonfly still remained poised on a blade of grass. Her slender and burnished body, more brightly and deeply blue than the deep blue sky, glistened in the sunbeam, and her netlike wings laughed at the flowers because they could not fly, but must stand still and abide the wind and rain. The dragonfly sipped a little of the child's clear dewdrops and blue-violet honey, and then whispered her winged words. And the child made an end of his repast, closed his dark blue eyes, bent down his beautiful head, and listened to the sweet prattle. 

       Then the dragonfly told much of the merry life in the green wood — how sometimes she played hide-and-seek with her playfellows under the broad leaves of the oak and the beech trees or hunt-the-hare along the surface of the still waters, or sometimes quietly watched the sunbeams as they flew busily from moss to flower, and from flower to bush, and shed life and warmth over all. But at night, she said, the moonbeams Then the dragonfly told of the merry life in the green wood glided softly around the wood, and dropped dew into the mouths of all the thirsty plants ; and when the dawn pelted the slumberers with the soft roses of heaven, some of the flowers looked up and smiled, but most of them could not so much as raise their heads for a long, long time. 

       Such stories did the dragon-fly tell. And as the child sat motionless, with his eyes shut and his head rested on his little hand, she thought he had fallen asleep, so she poised her double wings and flew into the rustling wood. 

       But the child was only sunk into a dream of delight, and was wishing he were a sunbeam or a moonbeam; and he would have been glad to hear more and more, and forever. Then as all was still, he opened his eyes and looked around for his dear guest, but she had flown far away. He could not bear to sit there any longer alone, so he rose and went to the gurgling brook. It gushed and rolled so merrily, and tumbled so wildly along as it hurried to throw itself head-over-heels into the river, just as if the great massy rock out of which it sprang were close behind it, and could only be escaped by a break-neck leap. 

Then the dragonfly told of the merry life in
the green wood.

       Then the child began to talk to the little waves and asked them whence they came. They would not stay to give him an answer, but danced away, one over another, till at last, that the sweet child might not be grieved, a drop of water stopped behind a piece of rock. From her the child heard strange histories; but he could not understand them all, for she told him about her former life, about the depths of the mountain. 

       "A long while ago," said the drop of water, "I lived with my countless sisters in the great ocean, in peace and unity. We had all sorts of pastimes; sometimes we mounted up high on the crest of the wave and peeped at the stars; then we sank deep, deep below, and watched how the coral builders work till they are tired, that they may reach the light of day at last. But by and by I longed to go farther and to know all that lay beyond my ocean home. So one day, when the sun rose out of the sea, I clung fast to one of his hot beams, and thought that now I should reach the stars and become one of them. But I had not ascended far, when the sunbeam shook me off and, in spite of all I could say or do, let me fall into a dark cloud. Soon a flash of fire darted through the cloud, and now I thought I must surely die; but the whole cloud laid itself softly down on the top of a mountain, and so I escaped. Now I thought I should remain hidden, when all of a sudden I slipped over a round pebble, fell from one stone to another, down into the depths of the mountain; till at last it was pitch dark, and I could neither see nor hear anything. 

      "'What,' thought I, 'will become of me now? There is nothing here but death.' Yet soon I knew that all about me were other drops working in the darkness, moistening the dry earth. In the clouds I had learned humility, so now I learned how to work in the darkness and the hidden places. I saw little roots reaching down into the dark earth for moisture from which they could feed the flowers and trees. I learned that one may find life even in the dark. Then one day I found myself emerging into the free, cheerful air in a tiny woodland spring. Now the brook has tossed me here, and I wait until I am called to something better." 

       But hardly had she done, when the root of a forget-me-not caught the drop of water by her hair, and sucked her in, that she might become a floweret and twinkle brightly as a blue star on the green firmament of earth. by Friedrich Wilhelm Carove.

The Four Flower Sisters

        I redrew and added additional gowns to these four sister paper dolls, each named after a specific blossom: hyacinth, lily, violet and rose, long ago. However, I still believe little ones will love to color and cut them out anytime of the year, even if it's not spring.

Sister "Hyacinth" paper doll

Sister "Lily" paper doll

Sister "Rose" paper doll

Sister "Violet" paper doll 

• Make a little blossoms summer camp in your own backyard next Summer...
• Visit The Flower Children index page to find even more floral sisters for reading and crafting on your own.
• How Does Your Garden Grow? - A printable paper flower garden you may color in by yourself.

Sapphire, Birthstone for September

A giant sapphire, teardrop shape.

        It seems incongruous that corundum, the material composing the polishing-wheel found in our machine-shops, should be basically identical with the beautiful sapphire. They are, nevertheless, one and the same, save for the crystallization of the gem.

       ''Sapphire'' is the name that is generally applied to any gem corundum excepting the red variety (ruby). More specifically, it is the name that is applied to the blue stone which is the most highly prized, the desired tints being royal blue and cornflower or cobalt blue.

       Ranking next to the diamond in hardness, the sapphire is one of the most beautiful and popular gems, as well as one of the most ancient ones, for it is mentioned in the earliest written histories, its name differing but slightly in the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin tongues.

       Sapphires are found in Siam, Ceylon, Kashmir; in the north-west Himalaya Mountains in Australia, and in the United States. It is said that Siam yields over half of the sapphires that are marketed, and those of the finest quality. There the gem is found in a light, sandy clay within two feet from the surface. In America, sapphires of a somewhat inferior quality are found near Helena, Montana, for years a field of operations for placer miners who undoubtedly panned out sapphires and rubies for a long time without identifying them as precious stones.

       Sapphires are cut: brilliant‚ en cabochon‚ cushion and step, while in the Orient they are usually found in the rose cutting. Occasionally the stones are engraved and used as seals, while rare sapphires of the Roman imperial period bore carved figures or astrological symbols. The ancients regarded the sapphire as a powerful talisman, and it was believed that carvings placed upon the gem would often enhance its talismanic properties.

TRADITION

       Not unlike most of the precious and semi-precious stones, the history of the sapphire is interwoven with interesting lore, tradition and superstition. The sacred character of the stone was attested by the tradition that the Law given to Moses on the Mount was engraved on tablets of sapphire. (This probably should have been translated 'lapis-lazuli'.) In Revelation (xxi, 19), we are told that the second foundation stone of Jerusalem was sapphire. We also find that the sixth Mohammedan heaven was sapphire.

       Writing in the twelfth century, the Bishop of Rennes lavished great praise upon this stone. ''Sapphire was like pure sky and mighty Nature had endowed it with so great a power that it might be called sacred and the gem of gems. Fraud was banished from its presence''

A SAPPHIRE OF NOTE

The blue Logan Sapphire.

       Among the famous sapphires possessed of an interesting history is one which was in the South Kensington Museum, in London. By daylight this remarkable gem displayed a rich, blue color, but by artificial light it showed a violet hue and resembled an amethyst. In the eighteenth century this stone was in the collection of a Polish nobleman, and, it is related, was used as a test of female virtue, the change of color indicating unfaithfulness on the part of the wearer. If the owner wished to prove that the subject of the test was innocent, she was made to wear the sapphire for three hours of daylight; but in the opposite case the test was so timed that it began in daylight and ended when the candles or lamps had been lighted. This gem was for a time in the collection of the Duke of Orleans, who bore the name of Philippe Egalite during the French Revolution.

MANUFACTURED SAPPHIRES

       Of late years we have heard a great deal about ''reconstructed'' and manufactured sapphires. Science has been able to produce genuine sapphires by artificial methods; stones which have the same color aspect, chemical properties, degree of hardness, and specific gravity as the natural gem; and to the unskilled eye they present the appearance of the true sapphire. To the trained observer, however, they present several differences, namely, their color is not distributed in the same manner as the natural stone; where the natural stone shows a grain and a crystalline structure the fabricated gem shows no grain and under a lens shows countless minute air bubbles; and last but far from least, the true gem has a velvety luster that has never been successfully imitated in the manufactured stone. It is exceedingly doubtful that the artificial stone will ever affect the market value of the natural sapphire. Wood

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Amethyst, Symbol of True Love

Roman intaglio engraved gem.

        The purple amethyst stands pre-eminent as the most popular of the semi-precious gems. Being a variety of quartz and obtainable in large quantities, this stone is now of more artistic than intrinsic value, but its qualities are those of a true gem. Indeed in early times, when the available supply of amethyst was limited, it was esteemed as a precious stone and was held in equal value with the sapphire. In many of the gem-pieces which have descended to us from ancient Rome, the amethyst and the sapphire are found side by side.

       The chief sources from whence the present-day supply of amethysts is derived are Brazil and the Ural Mountains in Siberia, although the gem is

found in many other localties. In North America, amethysts are found in Maine, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, North Carolina, and in the regions adjacent to Lake Superior. The Siberian amethysts, accompanied by beryl and topaz, occur in cavities in granite, although they are often found lying loose and very near the surface. The Siberian stones are so far superior to all others in the richness and depth of their dark violet hue, that the merest novice in the selection of gems would unhesitatingly show a preference for them over those from other sources. Very fine amethysts are occasionally obtained from Ceylon where they are found as pebbles in river-beds. These, however, occur in such small quantities as to be almost negligible. The Oriental amethyst which is procured from Ceylon is really the purple sapphire.

       While amethyst is found in all degrees of purple  from the lightest tint to a shade that is so dark as to be almost opaque, the gems of a dark reddish-purple are most highly prized. Good amethysts of this type hold their color-value under all circumstances, while some of the paler stones lose their violet color and show a dull gray under an artificial light.

       The amethyst lends itself to almost every type of cutting, but because of the great value which was placed upon this stone by the ancients it was not often engraved. Today, however, many of the finest amethysts are engraved or carved.

• Smoky Amethyst Crystals Found in Crystal Park, Montana
• Crafting an Amethyst D20, then scratching all the edges
• 15 Top Biggest Crystals...

USED BY THE EGYPTIANS

       The amethyst figured in the earliest Egyptian amulets, the forms and heads of animals constituting the most favored models. An exceedingly fine specimen of ancient Egyptian goldsmith's work which was evidently worn as a talisman by one of very high rank, is now in the Louvre Museum, Paris. This is a pendant of gold, lapis-lazuli, amethyst and Oriental pearl, shaped into a bull's head. The amethyst is engraved on both faces, the form of a priest being figured in each case.

RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS

       The association of the amethyst with sacerdotal things is old. It is the pious or episcopal gem, the precious stone of the Bishop, and it is regarded as imparting especial dignity and beauty to the property of the Roman Church. It is also the stone appropriate for mourning. The amethyst is sacred to St. Valentine who is said to have worn one at all times. In Revelation (XXI, 20) it is given as the twelfth foundation stone of Jerusalem.

PROTECTIVE AND CURATIVE VIRTUES

       In medieval times the amethyst was a favorite amulet as a preserver of the wearer in battle, and many a pious crusader who nightly told his beads, relied also upon the purple stone that hung as a protective charm beside his rosary. This gem was believed to be a good influence if worn by persons making petitions to princes, and when worn by a man, it was thought to attract to him the love of noble women. It was regarded as a protection from plagues, witchcraft, hailstorms, locusts and thieves. It was also supposed to induce sleep.

Amethyst cluster from Artigas, Uruguay.

THE TALISMAN OF CHARLEMAGNE

       One of the most interesting relics from medieval times is found in the Talisman of Charlemagne which was formerly preserved in the Cathedral Treasury at Aix-la-Chapelle, and which, because of its sacred character and on account of the mystic power ascribed to it, always exerted a peculiar fascination over the minds of those who visited the shrine.

       The 'talisman' is supposed to bear a piece of the True Cross which is surrounded by fifty or more large gems, many of these being amethysts.

       In the summer of 1804, Empress Josephine went to Aix-la-Chapelle where she visited the tomb of Charlemagne. Napoleon at this time authorized

the Cathedral chapter to bestow certain relics, among them the famed talisman, upon Josephine. It eventually went to the hands of Hortense, Josephine's daughter and the mother of Napoleon III, and was later inherited by him. It is said to be now in a private collection in Paris.

SOME FAMOUS GEMS

       The signet ring of Cleopatra was an amethyst, engraved with the figure of Mithras, a Persian deity, symbol of the Divine Idea, Source of Light and Life.

       From the ring of Edward the Confessor was taken an amethyst which now adorns the British crown. This particular stone is, by tradition, endowed with pronounced therapeutic virtues.

STONES OF LARGE SIZE

       Amethyst has been known to reach gigantic size at times, one crystal having been obtained which weighed 140 pounds.

       The artists of the Renaissance eagerly availed themselves of these huge and beautiful crystals to carve them into the fanciful but elegant vases that were so acceptable to the taste of their age. The Parisian Collections offer the choicest specimens of their skill in this line, presenting cups, vases, and urns carved from single gems, some of them measuring eight inches in height.

       Because of its beauty of color and its adaptability as an ornament the amethyst has always been held in popular esteem. It is coming, however, into the especial favor of those whose refined discrimination in matters of dress includes a gem-piece to harmonize with a costume. Wood

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Blue-Eyed Grass

by Eric Hunt

       Iris has a little sister whom you all know. At first glance, you might not think she was of the same family. As you grow in years and in the study of plants, you will see that she is.
       Out on sunny slopes early in the year, you often see masses of blue stars dotting the grass tops. "Blue-Eyed Grass'' we call these plants because their leaves seem so grass-like.
       Now that Iris has taught you that a calyx need not be green, you can easily pick out the parts of Blue-Eyed Grass. She has not such a graceful form as Iris, and has different shaped sepals, petals, stamens, and stigmas. Indeed, she seems to like a simple form. She makes her calyx and corolla nearly exactly alike.
       You see six blue or purple rays going out from the center, all looking alike. They all look like petals. Three are really sepals.
       Mrs. Blue-Eyed Grass sometimes makes the sepals a little wider than the petals, but not much. She always spreads out the six parts the same distance. Then she adds a point or so to their edges as if she wanted them to stretch out still farther. She puts the same yellow dash down their center. She gives them the same kind of honey paths.
       She arranges her stamens in full view. However, Mrs. Blue-Eyed Grass wanted a little change from the usual stamens. She broadened out her stems and joined them into a little tube. The three small anthers are hung on top of this tube.
       The pistil comes up through the stamen tube. It stands up in plain sight. Its knobby stigma does not look anything like the beautiful one of the Iris.
       You can easily see how Blue-Eyed Grass gets help in her seed-making. Little Miss Ant crawls up the grass-like stem until she lands on a flower. A sepal or a petal seems a broad platform to her after her climb up the narrow roadway. She does not stop to look at the view. Her nose tells her something good is in the pantry. The yellow center tells her eye where that pantry is. Down the honey path she goes. O, joy! Her nose and her eye have led her aright.
       The pantry is narrow, even for little Miss Ant. Though she be very orderly in her dining, she is sure to touch the stamen tube. Then, you know what happens. 
       The anthers open and pour the pollen over her. Then, she goes out to find another Blue-Eyed Grass pantry. In getting to it, she brushes against the knobby stigma and leaves the pollen on it.
       When the stigma receives the pollen and sends it down to the seed-case, it rolls back into three parts. That shows it does not care to use any more pollen. As the seeds ripen, the sepals and petals curl themselves up into funny shapes.
       The seedcase is not like that of the Iris, nor are the seeds the shape of the Iris seeds. Look at them for yourself.
       When you notice the leaves, you see that they grow as the Iris leaves do. They fold over each other and over the stem. I wonder if you would like to know what Botanists call this kind of leaf growth. I think it is not too hard a word for you. Its meaning always makes me smile. They say these leaves are ''equitant.' That means ''leaves riding astraddle'' as you ride a horse. Did you ever ride a horse? If not a real live horse, you must have ridden a rocking-horse. You just put one leg on one side and one on the other, and off you go. That is riding astraddle. You see Blue-Eyed Grass leaves and Iris leaves ride the stem this way, and so they are ‚''equitant leaves.‚'' Look in your home garden and see what other plants have their leaves riding horse back.
       In the Spanish California days, students used to make a purple ink out of Blue-Eyed Grass. They called it a pet name that meant ''little letters.'' In those days, it was not easy to get pens and inks. There were very few stores in the state. The children lived on ranches far from the stores. Think of the joy of finding in your own home field a little plant that would give you a fine violet ink.
       Imagine a little girl begging her Mama for some of the paper that the last sailing vessel had brought from Boston. She would whittle off the end of two feathers. Then, would write a letter to their cousins, perhaps, who lived at Santa Clara. Very carefully they wrote. Very, very carefully. It did not count that a whole field of ink did grow one jump over the fence. The paper took months to come in a sailing vessel. They could have very little of it.
       And what do you think? Her cousins wrote back to her in the same kind of violet ink?
       If students wanted a still stronger ink, take Blue-Eyed Grass's pretty sister, ''Golden-Eyed Grass.'' Her stain is even deeper purple. As you study her, you see that she is very much like Blue-Eyed Grass. Some people think her golden star prettier than the blue one.

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Shooting Star

Twinkle, twinkle, Shooting Star
We don't wonder what you are.
On the Earth, your bright clad form
Captures every heart by storm.

       One of the brightest robed of our Spring flowers is the Shooting Star. I am sure you all love it because everyone I know, whether boy or girl, man or woman, loves it. On its side, it seems to love California for it grows from the South to the North and from the Pacific to the heights of the Sierras. Sometimes it is small; sometimes large; sometimes pale; sometimes ruddy; but always it is lovely.

       The whole plant works to make the beautiful flower. You know the clump of thick green leaves that cling close to the ground. They come out so early in the Spring that Shooting Star has to prepare them against the biting nips of Jack Frost. She makes them hug Mother Earth and also cling close together. She makes them thick all through. She does not cut them into parts as Buttercup does her leaves. All this so that they will be warm in the cold Spring winds and can help raise a lovely blossom head. Their upper side is shining to catch the eye of passing insects, but their lower side is covered over for warmth.

       Up from the center of this clump of leaves arises a strong thick round stem with no branches. When it reaches the point where the flower stalks will start; it swells out all around. From this swelled point, many little stalks climb up higher. Each bears a flower bud.

       You see the five petals are joined together in front into a short tube and then are flung back in graceful banners. The tube is colored a dark maroon, with bands of yellow and white to enliven it. The banners are rose-pink like the soft clouds in the eastern sky at dawn.

       The stamens are made to add to the beauty as well as to do their life work. Their stems are short and fixed inside the corolla tube; but the anthers are long and form a ring outside the tube's top. They are colored a dark violet, and they shine like velvet against the yellow and white circles on the petals. Through this anther ring, the pistil extends like a beak.

       While the petals bloom, the five sepals curve backward to give them all the room. When the seeds are growing and the petals fading, the calyx straightens itself up around the seedcase.

       All the Shooting Stars at the top of the stem do not bloom out at once. Indeed, several weeks pass from when the first beautiful corolla flings its banners wide until the last one drops off its ripening seedcase. Shooting Star has a very good reason for this. It is the same reason she has for grouping her flowers together at the top of her stem.

       She raises her stem above her leaves so as to be easily seen. She sends out a group of flowers together so as to make a greater mass of color. She has the flowers bloom at different times so that the color will be waving longer. All her plans are made to attract the insects eyes. She must interest them through their eyes. She has not much honey to offer them and little fragrance to attract them. She can give them plenty of rich pollen if they like that. But the first thing to do is to attract them to the pollen.

       The insects do see the bright corolla. They do come buzzing along. They are not so excited as when they received the Wall Flower's invitation, but still they do come. When they push their heads into the anther ring, they get the pollen all over them. Then, when they visit the next Shooting Star, the long bill of the pistil touches their head and takes off the pollen.

       Shooting Star is careful of her pollen. Her anthers hold it fast until something shakes them. If no insect comes before the flower grows old, then the pistil beak turns the stigma up, and the anthers let the pollen fall upon it and the ovules receive it.

       Have you noticed the little stalks that hold the flowers? When they hold a bud, they stand up straight to let it get the sunshine. When the corolla opens, they curve downward so as to protect the pollen from the wind. When the seed is formed, they straighten up again, holding the seedcase to the sun. Do you know how this seedcase opens and lets out the seeds. 

       Did you ever dig up a Shooting Star and look at its root? If you plant one in your garden, you may have a new Shooting Star there next year. Try the seeds too. Take a ripe seedcase and scatter the seeds without touching them. Scatter them in some warm spot where the wind will not come. They know how to get underground themselves. Perhaps they will grow. Perhaps they will not. Nothing is lost by trying.

       In Southern Europe, the pigs are fond of the root of Shooting Star. They dig it up and gobble it down greedily. So, in those countries, the common name of this lovely flower is  'Sow-Bread. '' Not a pretty name, is it? What do you call the flower? Some children call it "Mosquito Bill" and some 'Roosters." Both these names come from the shape of the pistil. I have heard that some call it "Mad Violet,"though why I do not understand. It does not look like a violet nor does it seem at all angry. It never acts wildly, but just grows quietly, crouched near the ground.

       I like best the commonest name, "Shooting Star." That gives the thought that the flowers' loveliness is not all of the earth. They have some of the calm beautiful spirit of the Stars. 

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Baby Blue Eyes: Lesson 2

A little bit of sky
On Mother Earth's warm breast
Draws bees from far and nigh
And satisfies their quest.

Baby-Blue-Eyes up close.

       Baby-Blue-Eyes has several sisters, natives of California. Most of them look like her. Their color is different, but their shape is the same. They have the honey paths, the honey bowls, and the hair screens. They are all loved by the insect world.

       One of the sisters is quite different, but I think you can find her. Instead of growing near the ground, it climbs up and throws itself over bushes. It's stem is square. You can feel the corners. But be careful of your fingers. The stem is covered with little bristles, each ending in a hook and each pointing backward. It has these hooks to hold on to bushes with, but if you will put your hand in its way, it will hook into it. Hand or bush is all the same to Climbing Baby-Eyes, as long as it gets up in the world. It only wishes a support. It is really weak. If you pull your hand away, a long piece of stem comes too.

       The leaves, too, are quite different from those of Baby-Blue-Eyes. They clasp the stem as if they were afraid of being swung so high in the air. They are cut into lobes and each lobe points down to the ground. It does look as if these leaves wished their mother plant would act as the other Baby-Eyes do and cling near Mother Earth.

       The violet corolla is pretty and it brightens the brush-heaps over which the plant throws itself. They say that in the Spanish California days, the young ladies used to wear this Baby-Eyes on their party dresses. Pick some for your big sister the next time she is going to a party. Do you think she will want some a second time? Why?

       Have you read the Californian native people's story of how the Baby-Blue-Eyes came to be? It goes like this:

       Coyote had just made the World.

       Eagle looked over it and saw that it was flat. She said, ''There is no place for me to perch?''

       ''That is easily changed'' said Coyote. He made some little round hills.

        Sniffed Eagle. "Those are only footstools. I want high hills for my perch?"

        "Well, then, Sister Eagle, make better ones to suit yourself," said Coyote.

       "Thank you, I will," answered Eagle.

       She set to work. She dug her claws into the earth and scratched up some mountains. She worked very hard. Some of her feathers fell out as she worked. These feathers stuck in the ground and began to grow.

       The long feathers grew into trees. They became pines and redwoods and other tall trees.

       The pin feathers grew into bushes. They became manzanita and coffee-berry and other bushes.

       The soft down from her breast grew into small plants. It became Baby-Blue-Eyes and Buttercups and Cream Cups and Poppies and all the little flowering plants.

       Is not that a pretty story? Most of the Native's stories of the Nature around us are pretty stories. These people lived out of doors most of the time. They looked carefully at all things around them. They knew about the animals, and they knew about the plants. Some plants they knew were good to eat. Some were good to cure man if he were sick. Some were not good to eat nor good for medicine, but they were beautiful to look at. We need beautiful things as well as useful things. The Native people thought Baby-Blue-Eyes looked like a bit of sky fallen to earth, and they loved it.

       Don't you?

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Johnnie-Jump-Up

Johnnie-Jump-Up made a bet,
That he could pass for Violet.
What spoiled the little rascal's game?
The scent he used was not the same.

       Assemble a mini doll sized book: Left, is the Johnnie-Jump-Up's illustration and verse. Visitors can collect all the flower illustrations and verse from "Flower Children" to print and construct a small book of verse for their dolls. Simply drag each png. into a Word Document, print, cut out all of the images the same size and staple the pages together at the left edge. Squeeze out some white school glue along the stapled edge of the pages and attach a cardboard cover.

The scientific name for Johnnie-Jump-Up's scientific name is Viola tricolor. Read more about this flower here.

Back to the Flower Children Index.  

Violet

 

Modest little Violet
Was her loving Mother's pet;
Didn't care to go and play,
Rather stay at home all day.

       Assemble a mini doll sized book: Right, is the violet's illustration and verse. Visitors can collect all the flower illustrations and verse from "Flower Children" to print and construct a small book of verse for their dolls. Simply drag each png. into a Word Document, print, cut out all of the images the same size and staple the pages together at the left edge. Squeeze out some white school glue along the stapled edge of the pages and attach a cardboard cover.

 

The scientific name for Violets is Viola sororia. Find more about these flowers here.

 

Poems, Clip Art, etc... About Violets:

• May Baskets by Evaleen Stein
• Violet clip art from Easter Egg Crafts
• "V" is for violets" alphabet coloring page
• Violet clip art at Wedding Banns

Back to the Flower Children Index. 

 

Here is a little "Violet" paper doll for children to color.
Color her flower petal dress with green and purple
crayons. Paste on soft yarn "hair" and color her skin to
match your own of that of a special friend, if you like.

SOME VIOLETS.

by May Riley Smith

Dear friend, I give thee violets;
And for my fee,
The fragrant secret of thy life
Disclose to me.

For through it, like a guiding thread,
I scent the rue;
And faintly track the odorous feet
Of heart's-ease too.

Reach down on patient cords to me
Thy brimming cup
Of wise, sweet thoughts, that I may drink,
And thus toil up

To where thou art, so meekly high,
So far away.
I can but kiss my eager hands
To thee to-day.

Or, if I may not reach so high,
Then be it so;
If I may sit beside thy feet,
'Twill not be low.

And, listening soft, my soul may catch.
In some far sense.
The tuneful impulse of a life
Serene, intense.

Ah, me! I do but spoil my work
With clumsy phrase;
And mar, with my uncultured speech,
Where I would praise.

So I will lay my heart's-ease down
At thy kind feet;
Regretting sore their broken stems,
Their vanished sweet.

Yet praying that their faded blue
Some type may be
Of the fair badge my heart shall wear
Always for thee!

The Flower Children

A flower, a child, and a mother's heart-
These three are never so far apart.
A child, a flower, and a mother's love-
This world's best gifts from the world above.

       "All children are flowers in the garden of God's love. A flower is the mystical counterpart of a child. To the understanding heart a child is a flower and a flower is a child. God made flowers on the day that He gave the world children to play amid the flowers. God has implanted in the breasts of children a natural love for flowers- and no one who keeps that love in his heart has entirely forsaken the land of childhood.
       In preparing this book the author and the artist have attempted to show the kinship of children and flowers, and it is their hope that the little ones into whose hands this volume comes will find herein the proof that their knowledge of what flowers really are is true and that their love for the friendly blossoms is returned many-fold.
       To you, then, little child-flowers, this book is lovingly offered as an expression of thankfulness to children for the joy and sweetness with which they have filled my life." Elizabeth Gordon

Crocus * Trailing Arbutus * Daffodil * Hyacinth * Pussy Willow * Primrose * Dandelion * Windflower * Anemones * Lilac * Trillium and Tiger Lily * Pansies * Johnnie-Jump-Up * Lady's Slipper * Violet * Cowslip * Mignonette * Apple Blossom * Daisy * Four-Leafed Clover * Buttercup * Forget-Me-Not * Pink * Bouncing Betty * Morning Glory * Honeysuckle * Wild Rose * Columbine * Blue-eyed Grass * Nasturtium *  Briar-Rose * Bluebell * Geranium * Sweet Alyssum * Blue-eyed Flax * Bleeding Heart * Sweet Pea * Snap Dragon * Ragged Robin * Yarrow Pink * Iris * Peony * Babe Verbena * Maidenhair * Sweet William * Four-O'Clock * Twinflower * Milkweed * Candytuft * Jack Rose * Water Lily * Cocks Comb * Ghost Flower * Golden Rod * Dahlia * California Poppy * Corn Flower * Cat Tail * Prince's Feather * Crimson Rambler * Sage *  Golden-Glow * Bachelor Button * Sunflower * Hollyhock * Zinnia * Bitter Sweet * Black-eyed Susan * Nightshade * Gentian * Scarlet Poppy * Mullein * Thistle * Wild Cucumber * Burdock * China Aster * Chrysanthemum * Poison Ivy * Poinsettia * Holly * The American Beauty Rose * 

Sometimes I will include posts under the above theme that are not a part of the original pages by Elizabeth Gordon but these do have similar content:  Foxglove *

The Hummingbird

Assemble a mini doll sized book: Below, is the Hummingbird's illustration and verse. Visitors can collect all the bird illustrations and verse from "Bird Children" to print and construct a small book of verse for their dolls. Simply drag each png. into a Word Document, print, cut out all of the images the same size and staple the pages together at the left edge. Squeeze out some white school glue along the stapled edge of the pages and attach a cardboard cover.

Collect all pages-cleaned and sized to make a miniature
book for your dolls.

Humming Bird, the dainty thing,

Has no voice and cannot sing,

He lives daintily, and sips

Honey from the flowers' lips

Additional Authors:

HUMMINGBIRDS

       Hummingbirds are the smallest, and the most beautiful birds in creation. As they fly about wild in America and the West India Islands, one  moment they look one color and the next another; and as the hot sun shines upon them, you see bright spots of crimson, blue, violet, and emerald green, flitting through the air. Their heads and tails are often dark, but the fibers of their breast and some of their back feathers are of different colors, which shows up at various times. Their beaks are very long, and the tails of some humming-birds are also long and forked. They are called humming-birds, because as they fly through the air from shrub to shrub, to gather the sweet nectar from the flowers - they do not settle upon the flowers, but hover over them, and create a strange, humming, buzzing sound with their little wings. Henry Altemus Company.

Additional Content About Hummingbirds:

• This is hummingbird heaven
• Color these tiny hummingbirds!

Humming-Birds.

"Minutest of the feathered kind,

Possessing every charm combined,

Nature in forming thee, designed

That thou shouldst be

"A proof within how little space

She can comprise such perfect grace,

Rendering the lovely fairy race

Beauty's epitome.

Back To The Bird Children Index

 

How to Fold a Humming Bird Chain 

Two important tips to remember: the longer the paper the more often the design repeats.
The thinner the paper, the easier it is to cut.

Directions:

1. Measure the length and height of your template in order to determine how much paper you will need before folding it.
2. Use and accordion fold to prepare the paper before cutting.
3. Trace the design so that two sides touch opposite each other along the folds of the paper.
4. Cut away the negative spaces around your design.

Sample of hummingbird paper chain.

 

Hummingbird template.

The Fairy Ball

The fairy King and Queen danced in
the center of the ring.

       It  was  night,  and  the  Popovers  sat  out  under the  apple  tree  and  watched  the  stars  in  the  dark blue  sky  sparkle  and  wink  like  so  many  fairy candles.

       Ellen  had  left  them  there  in  the  grass.  She had  played  with  them  out-of-doors  after  supper and  had  forgotten  them  and  had  gone  to  bed. This  the  Popovers  knew,  for  they  had  seen  the light  flare  up  in  her  bedroom,  had  watched  the shadow  on  the  blind, and  had  then  seen  the windows  grow  dark  again,  and  they  knew  it meant  that  Ellen  was  safely  tucked  in  bed.

       '  But  the  night  is  warm  and  the  grass  is  soft and  the  children  are  well  wrapped  up,'  said cheerful  Mrs.  Popover,  "so  I  shall  not  mind  in the  least  staying  out  all  night.'

       'Neither  shall  I,'  said  Mr.  Popover  bravely, 'unless  of  course  I  should  catch  rheumatism in  one  of  my  legs.'

       'I  like  it  out  here,'  piped  up  Velvetina.  'I like  the  little  singing  noise  I  hear  in  the  grass'

       'They  are  crickets,  my  dear,  who  are  making that  noise,'  said:  Mr.  Popover,  'little  brown crickets  who  live  in  the  grass.  I  used  to  know a  great  many  crickets  when  I  was  a  boy  and held  clothes  on  the  line.'

       'I  think  the  music  of  the  crickets  makes  Loo-Loo  sleep  well,'  said  Mrs.  Popover,  looking down  at  the  Baby  she  held  in  her  arms.  'He hasn't  stirred  in  ever  so  long.  I  do  hope  they won't  stop.',

       'They  will  not  stop,'  answered  Mr.  Popover wisely.  'They  will  play  until  late  in  the  night. And  here  comes  the  moon.  It  will  soon  be  as bright  as  day.'

       Higher  and  higher  in  the  sky  climbed  a  big bright  moon.  It  was  round  as  round  could  be. The  Popovers  had  never  before  seen  a  moon  so large  and  so  round.  But  perhaps  that  is  because they  had  never  before  spent  the  night  out-of-doors.  The  moon  shone  down  on  the  apple  tree and  turned  its  leaves  to  silver.  It  touched  the grass  all  round  about  with  a  soft  white  light.

       The  Popovers  enjoyed  the  moonlight.  They enjoyed  the  music  of  the  crickets  too.  They could  not  feel  lonely  nor  afraid  out  under  the apple  tree  so  long  as  these  gay  little  musicians were  near  by.

       A  large  gray  moth  came  fluttering  past.  He brushed  against  Mrs.  Popover's  hair  and  Velvetina's  cheek  with  his  soft  pale  wings.  He flew  round  and  round  in  the  moonlight,  dipping down  and  stopping  every  now  and  then  as  if  to whisper  to  some  one  hidden  in  the  grass.  Then away  he  flew,  and  no  sooner  was  he  gone  than the  noise  of  the  crickets  grew  louder  than  before.

       Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!

       It  sounded  as  if  they  were  playing  a  merry little  tune.  Velvetina  could  scarcely  sit  still in  the  grass,  she  did  so  want  to  stand  up  and dance  in  the  silver  light  of  the  moon.

       She  was  just  about  to  ask  her  mother  if  she might  not  whirl  about  by  herself  for  a  little when  out  of  the  shadow  behind  the  apple  tree flew  a  butterfly,  a  great  green  butterfly  with brown  and  orange  spots  upon  its  wings.  Behind this  butterfly  came  another  and  another and  another  until  the  air  was  filled  with  butterflies, yellow  and  blue  and  green  and  black, spotted  and  striped  in  every  shade  and  hue.

       Upon  the  back  of  each  butterfly  rode  a  fairy, the  prettiest,  daintiest  little  creatures  that  the Popovers  had  ever seen.  They  were  not  so  tall as  a  blade  of  grass,  and  the  Popovers,  who  had never  before  seen  any  one  smaller  than  themselves, suddenly  felt  awkward  and  clumsy  and much  too  large.

       'Velvetina  must  have  dancing  lessons  and learn  to  be  graceful,'  thought  Mrs.  Popover, 'even  if  I  have  to  teach  her  myself.'

       The  fairies  drove  their  butterflies  swiftly along,  so  swiftly  that  their  fairy  hair  blew  out behind  them  in  the  wind.  Then  down,  down, down  they  guided  the  butterflies  to  the  soft grass  before  the  apple  tree  where  the  moon shone  the  brightest  and  the  crickets  played  the loudest  and  the  merriest  too.

       Off  the  backs  of  the  butterflies  stepped  the fairies  and  as  they  moved  about,  light  as  thistledown, the  Popovers  could  see  them  as  plainly  as could  be.

       There  were  little  boy  and  little  girl  fairies  and father  and  mother  fairies  too.

       '  Perhaps  some  of  them  are  grandfather  and grandmother  fairies  for  all  we  know,'  whispered Mrs.  Popover  in  Mr.  Popover's  ear.

       They  were  dressed  as  if  for  a  party  in  palest rose  and  blue  and  violet  and  green.  Some  wore sunshine-yellow  and  others  silver-white,  and each  one,  even  the  tiniest  fairy,  wore  a beautiful pair  of  filmy  wings  that  seemed  to  be  made  of  a bit  of  the  rainbow.  At  least  that  is  what  Velvetina  thought  of  them  and  wished  with  all  her heart  that  she,  too,  had  a  pair  of  wings  like theirs.

       The  Popovers  sat  quite  still  and  watched  the fairies.   They  saw  them  take  hands  and  form  a  large  ring.  But  instead  of  dancing  about,  the  fairies  stood  as  if  waiting  for  someone,  and  each  fairy  face  wore  a  smile,  the  happiest smile  that  any  one  might  see.

       'Mother,  why  are  they  waiting?'  whispered Velvetina,  pulling  at  her  mother's  dress.

       Mrs.  Popover  shook  her  head.  But  in  less than  a  moment  Velvetina's  question  was  answered.

       Through  the  air  there  came  flying  four  fireflies. Their bright  orange-yellow  torches  lighted the  way  for  eight  splendid  white  butterflies  who carried  on  their  backs  not  only  six  of  the  prettiest  fairies  the  Popovers  had  yet  seen - ladies  and  gentlemen-in-waiting  they  later proved  to  be  -  but  also  no  less  than  the  King and  the  Queen  of  the  Fairies.

       The  Popovers  knew  who  they  were  in  a moment.  For  of  course  the  King  and  the  Queen, beside  being  the  prettiest  fairies  of  all,  wore  each a  shining  golden  crown  upon  his  and  her  tiny fairy  head.  The  Queen's  dress  was  of  finest  cobweb  lace,  while  about  the  shoulders  of  the  King was  flung  a  golden  cape  that  sparkled  like  sunlight on  the  water  when  the  waves  are  dancing

in  the  wind.

       When  the  fairies  in  the  ring  saw  that  the  King and  Queen  had  come,  they  not  only  smiled  more sweetly  than  before,  but  they  clapped  their hands  and  laughed  aloud.  And  when  the  King and  the  Queen  stepped  into  the  ring  the  fairies bowed  to  them  as  gracefully  as  cornstalks  bow when  a  summer  breeze  passes  over  a  field  of corn.

       Then  the  fairies  danced  about  their  King  and Queen,  to  and  fro,  round  about,  in  and  out, while  the  moon  shone  brightly  and  the  apple tree  rustled  softly  and  the  crickets  played  their wing  fiddles  as  gay  as  gay  could  be.

       Next,  the  King  and  the  Queen  danced,  at first  alone  in  the  center  of  the  ring,  and  now  the Popovers  were  sure  that  this  was  the  prettiest dancing  that  could  be  done.  But  soon  the  King and  the  Queen  joined  the  ring,  and  when  the Popovers  saw  them  all  dancing  together,  the happiest,  most  graceful  little  people  in the  world,  they  changed  their  minds  and  murmured to  one  another  that  nothing  could  be more  beautiful  than  this.

       'And  Ellen  would  say  so,  too,  I  know'  said Mrs.  Popover.

       To  which  Mr.  Popover  nodded  and  added under  his  breath,  'I  wish  Ellen  were  here  to  see this,  I  do.'

       The  fairies  were  dancing  merrily  and  the Popovers  were  watching  every  step,  when  out from  behind  the  apple  tree  flew  a  sober  brown butterfly.  Seated  on  his  back  was  a  fairy,  a grown-up  fairy,  plump  and  comfortable-looking, who  wore  a  wide  white  apron  and  a  neat  white cap.

       She  was  skillfully  driving  her  butterfly  with one  hand,  for  in  the  other  arm  she  held  a  bundle, a  tiny  white  bundle,  not  much  larger  than  a  pea. And  from  the  bundle  there  came  shrieks  and screams  that  sounded  so  like  Loo-Loo  when having  a  crying  spell  that  Mrs.  Popover  looked down  at  her  side,  where  she  had  placed  Loo-Loo,  to  see  if  he  were  still  safely  asleep.

       At  the  sound  of  these  shrieks  and  screams the  dancing  ceased.  And  no  sooner  had  the plump  fairy  alighted  than  the  Queen  rushed forward  and  took  the  screaming  bundle  from her  arms.

       At  that  moment  the  screaming  stopped. Yes,  as  soon  as  the  Queen  took  the  bundle  the screaming  stopped.

       Then  the  plump  fairy  spoke.

       'Yes,  your  Majesty,'  said  the  plump  fairy, making  a  bow  to  the  Queen,  'it  is  Prince  Midge. He  has  been  screaming  for  you  ever  since  you left  the  palace.  No  matter  what  I  did,  still  he screamed.  I  gave  him  his  bottle,  and  I  danced him  up  and  down,  and  I  even  let  him  have  the cat  in  bed  with  him,  too.  But  he  wouldn't  stop screaming  for  you,  and  so  I  brought  him  here. Yes,  your  Majesty,  that  is  what  I  did.  I  brought him  here  to  you.'

       Prince  Midge's  nurse  folded  her  hands  at  her waist  and  looked  at  the  Queen,  and  the  Queen looked  at  naughty  Prince  Midge  in  her  arms, and  the  King  looked  at  the  ring  of  waiting  fairies and  then  at  the  Queen.

         'But  now  you  won't  be  able  to  dance  with  us, my  dear,'  said  the  King,  'and  it  won't  seem  like a  Fairy  Ball  to  any  of  us  if  the  Queen  doesn't dance.'

       The  Queen  shook  her  head  with  a  little  sigh.

       'I  know  it,'  said  she,  rocking  Prince  Midge  to and  fro,  'and  I  do  so  like  to  dance.  But  if Baby  won't  stay  with  Nurse,  what  can  I  do?'

       Now  the  Popovers  had  been  watching  all  this with  eager  eyes.  Prince  Midge's  crying  had wakened  Loo-Loo  and  Mrs.  Popover  was  hold- ing him  again  in  her  arms.

       When  she  heard  what  the  Queen  said,  Mrs. Popover  stepped  forward.

       '  Perhaps  Prince  Midge  will  let  me  hold  him,' said  she,  pleasantly,  to  the  Queen.  'You  see,  I have  a  baby  of  my  own.'

       The  fairies  were  much  surprised  to  see  the Popovers.  They  had  been  so  busy  with  their dancing  that  they  had  not  noticed  the  little family  sitting  under  the  tree.  But  they  all bowed  and  smiled  politely  and  then  stood  back to  see  how  Prince  Midge  would  behave.

       As  we  said,  Loo-Loo  was  now  awake  and  sitting up  in  his  mother's  arms.  He  stared  solemnly for  a  moment  at  little  Prince  Midge  and then  smiled  broadly  as  only  Loo-Loo  could smile.  Little  Prince  Midge  stared  solemnly back  and  then  in  his  turn  smiled  a  little  fairy smile  into  Loo-Loo's  face.  Mrs.  Popover  smiled too  and  held  out  her  arms.  And,  would  you believe  it,  Prince  Midge  went  straight  to  Mrs. Popover  and  cuddled  down  without  a  sound. And  there  they were,  one  on  each  shoulder, Loo-Loo  and  little  Prince  Midge,  both  as  good as  gold  and  smiling  at  one  another  as  if  they were  old  friends.

       '  Wouldn't  your  little  girl  like  to  dance  with us?'  asked  the  Queen  politely  of  Mrs.  Popover.

       So  Velvetina,  blushing  and  smiling,  stepped forward,  and  with  the  Queen  on  one  hand  and the  King  on  the  other,  was  taken  into  the  fairy-ring.

       Now  the  dance  began  again,  and  Mr.  and Mrs.  Popover,  watching  from  under  the  apple tree,  thought  it  the  prettiest  sight  their  eyes had  ever  seen.

       'I  think  that  Velvetina  is  a  graceful  child' said  Mrs.  Popover,  smiling  to  see  Velvetina whirl  about  and  trip  to  and  fro.  'I  have  made up  my  mind  that  she  shall  have  dancing  lessons when  we  move  into  the  attic  again.'

       'Yes,  she  dances  nicely,'  agreed  Mr.  Popover. 'I  was  a  good  dancer  myself  when  I  was  a  boy.'

       When  at  last  the  dance  was  over,  it  was  not because  the  fairies  had  grown  tired,  oh,  no! It  was  because  the  moon  had  moved  out  of sight  behind  the  hill,  because  the  stars  were  now pale  in  the  sky,  and  because  there  was  a  dim light  in  the  east  that  told  all  the  fairies  that  day would  soon  be  here.

       "Thank  you  for  holding  Midge  for  me,'  said the  Queen,  shaking  Mrs.  Popover's  little  china hand.  'He  is  a  very  naughty  boy,  and  I  am going  to  ride  home  with  Nurse  and  carry  him myself  for  fear  he  cries  again.'

       "Thank  you  for  letting  the  Queen  dance,' said  the  King,  making  a  pretty  bow  to  Mrs. Popover.

       Then  he  kindly  patted  Velvetina  upon  the cheek.

       'Your  little  girl  dances  nicely!'  said  he.

       And  at  this,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Popover  and  Velvetina were  so  pleased  that  nothing  in  the  world could  have  made  them  feel  more  happy.  No, not  even  if  they  had  been  invited  to  the  Fairy Palace  for  a  week.

       They  watched  the  fairies  mount  their  butterflies and  flutter  away,  one  by  one.  They  waved until  the  last  fairy  was  out  of  sight.

       Then  the  crickets  and  the  Popovers  fell asleep,  not  to  wake  until  next  morning  when  the sun  was  high  in  the  sky.

       'Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  I  left out  out  all  night,' said  Ellen,  when  she  found  them  there  in  the morning  under  the  apple  tree.  'I  am  sorry  as I  can  be.   I  do  hope  you  didn't  take  cold.'

       The  Popovers  only  smiled,  but  later,  when Ellen  was  not  about,  Mr.  Popover  had  something to  say.

       'Sorry?'  said  Mr.  Popover.  'We  are  not sorry.  We  are  glad.  But  I  wonder  what  Ellen would  say  if  we  told  her  about  the  fairies.'

       And  I  wonder,  too,  what  she  would  say. Don't  you?

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