This from Nature's Garden by Neltje Blanchan Doubleday, 1900. "Silvery-white chandeliers, hanging from the edges of the woods, light Flora's path in earliest spring, before the trees and shrubbery about them have begun to put forth foliage, much less flowers. Little plants that hug the earth for protection while rude winds rush through the forest and across the hillsides, are already starring her way with fragile, dainty blossoms; but what other shrub except the service-berry's twin sister the shad-bush, or perhaps the spicebush, has the temerity to burst into bloom while March gusts howl rhrough the naked forests? Little female bees of the Andrena tribe, already at work collecting pollen and nectar for generations yet unborn, buzz their gratitude about the beautiful feathery clusters that lean away from the crowded thicket with a wild, irregular grace. Nesting birds have abundant cause for gratitude also, for the attractive sweet berries, that ripen providentially early; but, of course, the bees which transfer pollen from flower to flower, and the birds which drop the seeds far and wide, are not the receivers of wholly disinterested favors."
For me this does awaken visions of spring, as well as those of Mrs. Shackleford talking about run-on sentences. Something lost, something gained, and we all eulogize the flowers. What would Neltje have thought of the terseness of a digital camera?