those silly daffodils By ANDREW DAVIS The daffodils came up in February. I planted them at the north end of the house. Not a ray of sunshine reached them even in midsummer. Since Christmas there has been snow on the ground. There was a space of two or three inches between the side of the house and the snow, and at the bottom of this snowy crevasse those silly daffodils sprang up like bursts of optimism. They went right on growing and bloomed weeks ahead of schedule. When I planted them, I knew it was the wrong place for daffodils. But I couldn't help it, as I had to put them somewhere. The fact is I haven't got a garden because I haven't much land. With a small lot one has no room for a garden; so the less land one has the fewer things there will be growing on it. Some of my time outdoors is spent wandering about with a forlorn plant or homeless bulb, looking for an unused inch of earth in which to bury the poor thing. What the beginner wants, of course, is fool-proof flowers. I have discovered that among the annuals the zinnia is the answer. A package of zinnias, an investment of about ten cents at any store, poked into the ground at random, with very little more effort save watering, repaid about a hundred per cent in a three-months' riot of color. Then, for the delight of anyone, there's nothing like the lonely little petunia. Phlox is another flower that takes care of itself and eventually spreads all over. I like the pleasing fragrance of phlox. Pansies are the next easiest to grow. Do not be misled by their innocent faces; all they think of is plenty of sun and maybe a little bone-meal. Supply them with this, pick them every day, and you will have continuous blooming. Most flowers possess the trait of liking to be picked. Morning glories are also obliging to the gardener, asking nothing but to be planted. Almost all kinds of bulbs are really simple; put them in the ground and forget about them, and there they are in the spring. My favorite bulb is tulip. There is nothing prettier than a mass of colorful tulips. I think that amateur gardeners like to make a fuss about difficulties to give themselves importance as I do. Sometimes I plant bulbs or flowers and forget their names. And if I do remember their names, I can't find them. Of course, I mark them with little sticks bearing labels, but the rain washes out the labels. If the flower survives, sometimes I can identify it, and sometimes it turns out to be a weed. Again, I have not yet learned how to reach an agreement between whatever flowers I have and what land I have. Certain flowers will not tolerate the precise conditions I am able to offer them at the moment: Sun, shade, soil, and moisture; but these flowers cannot abide them. Some portions of the ground are thick with the vigorous profusion of growth, while other portions pine away and become bare spots. But the main result of my growing flowers is not horticultural. Until the bills came in, I couldn't believe the amount of hardware demanded by the simplest kind of gardening. I had assumed beforehand that a trowel and a hoe would see me through, with of course a lawnmower. Alas, these are but a drop in the bucket, as I needed a spade, a wheelbarrow, pruners, rake, fork, a pair of shears, a saw, a spraygun, and the different sprays and then all the flower seeds, bulbs, and soil preparations. Now it can be told; it was I who started the revival in the heavy industries on a small plot of ground. To do that with a clump of phlox and a couple of dahlias is no small feat. 6 OFF THE CUFF Hunting Man As through the field in early morn We tramp for sight of game, I thrill to sound of hunter's horn, But wish I were with a dame. Don Fleming Firs Fir Trees Gossiping in The evening breeze tell all Their secrets to the tale-bearing Night wind. Ann Crary College Algebra My head's a-whirl and it's not a girl But the mysteries of x and y. The formula quadratic is quite emphatic But yet there's more than meets the eye. We were given a speil and set to with a will: "It will be useful," I heard the prof imply. I suppose I have gained knowledge unnamed Yet still don't see how x can equal y. Ann Crary Ouch! For you, my pal, my buddy, My limbs must give out charm. The day I get my tetanus shot You hit me on the arm. Eugene James May...Most Favorable Word By EIJI KOJIMA This moment of relaxation in the countryside of Japan will introduce Eliji, who was born in the United States then spent several of his growing up years with relatives in Japan during World War II, now is learning America all over again. Editor May, it is the most pleasant season in Japan through the year. The cherry blossoms which were in full bloom in April already are gone. And the dried atmosphere is filled with the sweat and strong odor of young leaves. The breeze of May is called Green Wind or Blue Storm by the Japanese writer and it is the most favorable word. In this season many people over there go to fields, hills and seashore, carrying big packages of lunch. They hunt many kinds of curious plants, grasses, stones and shells. After they get tired, they sit around and hold a big party in the open air. Usually two or three neighbor families join the party, making the party more busy and happy. Men drink some liquor talking about their business. Women are too busy chattering about trifling daily things to eat. Children run up and down hillsides holding cakes in their hands. A man, excited somewhat with alcohol, starts to sing a song and dance. Then another man shows his talent. Thus they breathe enough wild atmosphere and temporarily get out of the modern, artificial world. May in Japan is the season of Green Wind and the season during which the people come back to nature. 7