The long wet season had drawn near its close.

Signs of spring were visible in the swelling buds and rushing torrents.

The pine forests exhaled the fresher spicery.

The azaleas were already budding, the ceanothus getting ready its lilac livery for spring.

On the green upland which climbed Red Mountain at its southern aspect the long spike of the monkshood shot up from its broad-leaved stool, and once more shook its dark-blue bells.