And it seems as if the plant has always a great motive.  The moment it feels it has grasped the mother-earth securely with its roots it turns its strength to making something beautiful.  In the air and light, in the dark earth even, every part of the plant is seeking for the means to do a wonderful thing.  It drinks in the sunshine, and with the warmth of it, and to the glory of its own life, it blossoms.  It has come from a tiny helpless seed to a living plantlet with the smallest stem and root, and while the stem fights for a place in the air the root never ceases to get a strong hold of the dear earth in which the plant finds its home.  Then when the home is firmly secured and the days have made the plant stronger and more shapely, it forgets all the rude winds and rain and the drifting leaves, and shows how joyful it is to live by giving something.

Then it is clear that every hardship had its purpose.  The rains beat it down, but at the same time they were feeding it; the leaves dropped about and covered it, but that protected its tenderness:  and thus in all the trials it finds a blessing.  Its growth is stronger, and thankful for all its life it seeks to express this thankfulness.  In its heart there is something it is sure.  And true enough, out it comes some day in a flower with its color and tenderness and perfume; all from the earth, but taken from it by love which the plant feels for the ground as its home.

We can see from this, that the beauty of a plant or of a tree is a sign of its relation to the earth in which it lives.  If its hold is weak—­if it loosely finds a place for a weak root—­it lies on the ground, helpless, strengthless, joyless.  But firmly placed and feeling safe in its security, it gives freely of its blossoms; or, year after year, like a tree, shows us its wonderous mass of leaf, all of it a sign that earth and tree are truely united.

It has been said, and no doubt it is true, that one who cares for plants and loves them becomes patient.  The plant does not hurry; its growth is slow and often does not show itself; and one who cares for them learns their way of being and of doing.  The whole lesson is that of allowing time, and by using it wisely to save it.  The true glory of a day for a plant is the air and sunlight and earth-food which it has taken, from which it has become stronger.  And every day, one by one, as it proves, contributes something to its strength.

All men who have been patient students of the earth’s ways have learned to be careful, to love nature, and to take time.  And we all must learn to take time.  It is not by careless use that we gain anything, but by putting heart and mind into what must be done.  When heart and mind enter our work they affect time curiously; because of the great interest we take in what we do time is not thought of; and what is not thought of, is not noticed.

Hence, the value of time comes to this:  to use any time we may have, much or little, with the heart in the task.  When that is done there is not only better work accomplished but there are no regrets lingering about to make us feel uncomfortable.