There is catkin pollen on the wind, hazel and sassafras are both in bloom now, and so are several of the earliest little flowers of the woods.

You can gather enough of them combined to temper the disagreeable odour into a racy sweetness, and all the shrub blooms are good tonics, too, and some of the earthy ones.

I'm going to try giving some of you empty cases next spring and analyzing the honey to learn if it isn't good medicine." The Harvester straightened and leaned on the mattock to fill his lungs with fresh air and as he delightedly sniffed it he commented, "Nothing else has much of a chance since I've stirred up the cabbage bed.

I can scent the catkins plainly, being so close, and as I came here I could detect the hazel and sassafras all right." Above him a peculiar, raucous chattering for an instant hushed other wood voices.

The Harvester looked up, laughing gaily.
"So you've decided to announce it to your tribe at last, have you ?" he inquired.