WHERE THE FLOWERS COME FROM

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 27, 23 April 1927, Page 24 (Supplement)

WHERE THE FLOWERS COME FROM

One bright sunny morning, when Maysie was walking with her mother in the woods, the beautiful wildflowers looked so pretty nodding their little heads in the breeze that she suddenly asked: “Mummy, where do the flowers come from, and why don’t they grow everywhere?” And this is what mother told her:“In the far end of the wood, underneath an old oak tree, there lives a little brown man. Every moonlight night he comes forth from his quaint little house and sits upon a mushroom, which always seems to grow conveniently near. His clothes are the colour of shrivelled leaves, so of course you would not see him unless you searched most diligently, and even then if he guessed that you are seeking kin he silently disappears. “From one pocket he produces a curious little pipe, which is made from an acorn cup, but as the bright silvery rays of the moon slant through the branches of the trees it looks for all the world as though it might be made of silver. Then, from, another pocket, he takes a funny little bag, from which he seems to get all sor.s of beautiful colours.

“Sitting upon his mushroom he pops the colours into his silver pipe, and slowly commences to puff. And so he puffs and puffs away f r ' a time until the most delightful little bubbly balls appear. He still continues to blow and to puff until the bubbles grow larger, and larger, and the pretty rainbow colours can be seen shining in them. Presently, when they are large enough, they leave the pipe and float away In the air. “Off they go, blown by the gentle breeze, until at last they find a spot where they wish to settle. Then they float downwards, and as soon as they touch the earth they burst. “In the morning when the sun awakes and slowly commences to travel across the sky, and the fresh morning de* has watered the ground, you may And a tiny green shoot sprouting. day it grows larger and larger, then little leaves appear, and finally a bud. In a day or two the: buds burst ana out pops a tiny fairy and there are revealed the pretty flowers you see. “When the night comes the fames appear again, and dance round an round all the flowers growing; tneo holding hands they troop off to cna with the little brown man who hy® s the bottom of the old oak tree.