Pennsylvania School of Horticulture for Women - Wise Acres Yearbook (Ambler, PA)

Page 32 text:

We, the Little Sisters of 1953-1954 in our unquestionably sound bodies and questionably sound minds, have looked into the stagnant pool in the west cherry aisle and have discovered the futures of the picaresque Nine.’' The first bubble to break the surface revealed Miss Timmy Ba-aa-alch constructing a greenhouse adjacent to her stables. Orange blossoms and strains of La-de-da-dum” seem to have brought about a great change in our Timbo. What we saw next surprised us so thoroughly that we lost our balance and in we went. Mrs. Ernesta Ballard had completed two years of Landscape Design, two years of General Horticulture and had returned for three years plus a summer session of Agriculture. Ambition must lead somewhere. In our attempt to swim out of the pool, we pushed the algae aside. Beneath it we saw a horticultural wonderland. Brooklyn!!! There beneath a Tree of Heaven, delving for information covering the relationship of the onion to the petunia in Bailey’s, reclined Andy. While we were climbing over the side of the pool, we saw Nancy on a ledge in the rocks happily pruning her grapes at midnight beneath arc lights. At least she learned something in Fruit Class. As the ripples of our movement settled, a paper floated to the surface. The headlines were Kleinewefers’ Snapdragons Take The World.” A bullfrog jumped out of the pool and in his melodious voice sang forth news on Carol’s progress. She had recently returned from a lecture tour on the correct way to fumigate Green Houses. Before the frog left our company a parade of water spiders skated by pushing and pulling Audrey so she wouldn’t be late for her speaking engagement at the current Poultry Convention. A mischievous, dancing water sprite followed, and being brown, reminded us that Jeanie’s greatest ambition was to own a CHOCOLATE ice cream factory. A little research proved this to be true. As the golden rays of the setting sun illumined the pool, we realized the time was growing short, so we left to the music of Mollie Stock’s All-Girl Jazz Band. 28