When she came to the wood, she met an old man in a green dress.
“Good morning, Little Bluewing,” said the old man, “I am the gardener at Sunnyglade; come and look at my flowers.”
“Too much honour for me,” answered Little Bluewing.
“Not at all, for you have never ill-used flowers.”
They walked together to the strand and crossed a little bridge, which led to an islet.
On the islet was a wonderful garden. Every flower, large and small, grew there, and everything was in order, just as if the garden had been a book.
The old man lived in a house which was built of growing ever-green trees-pines, fir trees, and junipers; the floor consisted of growing ever-green shrubs. Moss and lichen grew in the crevices and held them together. The roof was made entirely of creepers, Virginia creeper, Caprifolium, and ivy, and it was so thick that not a drop of rain could come through. A number of bee-hives stood before the door, but butterflies lived in them instead of bees; just think of the lovely sight when they swarmed!
“I don’t like torturing bees,” explained the old man. “And, moreover, I consider them not at all pretty; they look like hairy coffee-beans and sting like adders.”
And then they went into the garden.
“Now, you may read in the book of nature and learn the secrets and sensibilities of the plants. But you must not ask questions, only listen to what I say and answer me.... Now, look here, little one, on this grey stone something is growing which looks like grey paper. This is the first thing which grows when the rock becomes damp. It grows mouldy, you see, and the mould is called lichen. Here are two kinds: one looks like the horns of a reindeer, it is called reindeer-moss, and the reindeer feeds on it; and the other is called Iceland-moss, and looks like... now, what does it look like?”