Gossip , as usual , was wrong . Gilbert Blythe , aided and abetted by Anne , had written the notes , putting in the one about himself as a blind . Only two of the notes have any bearing on this history : `` Rumor has it that there will be a wedding in our village ere the daisies are in bloom . A new and highly respected citizen will lead to the hymeneal altar one of our most popular ladies . `` Uncle Abe , our well-known weather prophet , predicts a violent storm of thunder and lightning for the evening of the twenty-third of May , beginning at seven o'clock sharp . The area of the storm will extend over the greater part of the Province . People traveling that evening will do well to take umbrellas and mackintoshes with them . '' `` Uncle Abe really has predicted a storm for sometime this spring , '' said Gilbert , `` but do you suppose Mr. Harrison really does go to see Isabella Andrews ? '' `` No , '' said Anne , laughing , `` I 'm sure he only goes to play checkers with Mr. Harrison Andrews , but Mrs. Lynde says she knows Isabella Andrews must be going to get married , she 's in such good spirits this spring . '' Poor old Uncle Abe felt rather indignant over the notes . He suspected that `` Observer '' was making fun of him . He angrily denied having assigned any particular date for his storm but nobody believed him . Life in Avonlea continued on the smooth and even tenor of its way . The `` planting '' was put in ; the Improvers celebrated an Arbor Day . Each Improver set out , or caused to be set out , five ornamental trees . As the society now numbered forty members , this meant a total of two hundred young trees . Early oats greened over the red fields ; apple orchards flung great blossoming arms about the farmhouses and the Snow Queen adorned itself as a bride for her husband . Anne liked to sleep with her window open and let the cherry fragrance blow over her face all night . She thought it very poetical . Marilla thought she was risking her life .
`` Thanksgiving should be celebrated XXXXX the spring , '' said Anne one evening to Marilla , as they sat on the front door steps and listened to the silver-sweet chorus of the frogs .
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