(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)
Oaklands, September 29.Michaelmas. The birthdays of our commuters are not far apart. This being Evan's festival, we have eaten the annual goose in his honour, together with several highly indigestible old-country dishes of Martha Corkle's construction, for she comes down from the cottage to preside over this annual feast. Now the boys have challenged Evan to a "golf walk" over the Bluffs and back again, the rough-and-ready course extending that distance, and I, being "o'er weel dined," have curled up in the garden-overlook window of my room to write to you.
It has been a good gardener's year, and I am sorry that the fall anemones and the blooming of the earliest chrysanthemums insist upon telling me that it is nearly over,—that is, as far as the reign of complete garden colour is concerned. And amid our vagrant summer wanderings among gardens of high or low degree, no one point has been so recurrent orinteresting as the distribution of colour, and especially the dominance of white flowers in any landscape or garden in which they appear.
In your last letter you speak of the preponderance of white among the flowering shrubs as well as the early blossoms of spring. That this is the case is one of the strong points in the decorative value of shrubs, and in listing seeds for the hardy or summer beds or sorting the bushes for the rosary, great care should be taken to have a liberal sprinkling of white, for the white in the flower kingdom is what the diamond is in the mineral world, necessary as a setting for all other colours, as well as for its own intrinsic worth.
Look at a well-cut sapphire of flawless tint. It is beautiful surely, but in some way its depth of colour needs illumination. Surround it with evenly matched diamonds and at once life enters into it.
Fill a tall jar with spires of larkspur of the purest blue known to garden flowers. Unless the sun shines fully on them they seem to swallow light; mingle with them some stalks of white foxgloves, Canterbury bells, or surround them with Madonna lilies, a fringe of spirea, or the slenderDeutzia gracilis, more frequently seen in florists' windows than in the garden,and a new meaning is given the blue flower; the black shadows disappear from its depth and sky reflections replace them.
The blue-fringed gentian, growing deep among the dark grasses of low meadows, may be passed over without enthusiasm as a dull purplish flower by one to whom its possibilities are unknown; but come upon it backgrounded by Michaelmas daisies or standing alone in a meadow thick strewn with the white stars of grass of Parnassus or wands of crystal ladies' tresses, and all at once it becomes,—
"Blue, blue, as if the sky let fallA flower from its cerulean wall!"
The same white setting enhances the brighter colours, though in a less degree than blue, which is, next to magenta, one of the most difficult colours to place in the garden. In view of this fact it is not strange that it is a comparatively unusual hue in the flower world and a very rare one among our neighbourly eastern birds, the only three that wear it conspicuously being the bluebird, indigo bird, and the bluejay.
It is this useful quality as a setting that gives value to many white flowers lacking intrinsic beauty, like sweet alyssum, candy-tuft, the yarrows, and the double feverfew. In buying seeds of flowers in mixed varieties, such as asters, verbenas, Sweet-William, pansies, or any flower in short that has a white variety, it is always safe to buy a single packet of the latter, because I have often noticed that the usual mixtures, for some reason, are generally shy not only of the white but often of the very lightest tints as well.
In selecting asters the average woman gardener may not be prepared to buy the eight or ten different types that please her fancy in as many separate colours; a mixture of each must suffice, but a packet of white of each type should be added if the best results are to be achieved.
The same applies to sweet peas when planted in mixture; at least six ounces of either pure white or very light, and therefore quasi-neutral tints harmonizing with all darker colours, should be added. For it is in the lighter tints of this flower that its butterfly characteristics are developed. Keats had not the heavy deep-hued or striped varieties in mind when he wrote of
"... Sweet Peas on tiptoe for a flight,With wings of gentle flush: o'er delicate white,And taper fingers catching at all thingsTo bind them all about with tiny rings."
If you examine carefully the "flats" of pansies growing from mixed seed and sold in the market-placesor at local florists', you will notice that in eight out of ten the majority of plants are of the darker colours.
There are white varieties of almost every garden flower that blooms between the last frost of spring and winter ice. The snowdrop of course is white and the tiny little single English violet of brief though unsurpassing fragrance; we have white crocuses, white hyacinths, narcissus, lilies-of-the-valley, Iris, white rock phlox, or moss-pink, Madonna and Japan lilies, gladiolus, white campanulas of many species, besides the well-known Canterbury bells, white hollyhocks, larkspurs, sweet Sultan, poppies, phloxes, and white annual as well as hardy chrysanthemums.
Almost all the bedding plants, like the geranium, begonia, ageratum, lobelia, etc., have white species. There are white pinks of all types, white roses, and wherever crimson rambler is seen Madame Plantier should be his bride; white stocks, hollyhocks, verbenas, zinnias, Japanese anemones, Arabis or rock cress, and white fraxinella; white Lupins, nicotiana, evening primroses, pentstemons, portulaca, primulas, vincas, and even a whitish nasturtium, though its flame-coloured partner salvia declines to have her ardour so modified.
Among vines we have the white wisteria, several white clematis, the moon-flower, and other Ipomeas, many climbing and trailing roses, the English polygonum, the star cucumber, etc., so that there is no lack of this harmonizing and modifying colour (that is not a colour after all) if we will but use it intelligently.
Aside from the setting of flower to flower, white has another and wider function. As applied to the broader landscape it is not only a maker of perspective, but it often indicates a picture and fairly pulls it from obscurity, giving the same lifelike roundness that the single white dot lends in portraiture to the correctly tinted but still lifeless eye.
Take for instance a wide field without groups of trees to divide and let it be covered only with grass, no matter how green and luxuriant, and there is a monotonous flatness, that disappears the moment the field is blooming with daisies or snowy wild asters.
Follow the meandering line of a brook through April meadows. Where does the eye pause with the greatest sense of pleasure and restfulness? On the gold of the marsh marigolds edging the water? or on the silver-white plumes of shad-bush that wave and beckon across the marshes, as they stray from moist ground toward the light woods? Could any gay colourwhatsoever compete with the snow of May apple orchards?—the fact that the snow is often rose tinged only serving to accentuate the contrasting white.
In the landscape all light tints that at a distance have the value of white are equally to the purpose, and can be used for hedges, boundaries, or what may be called punctuation points. German or English Iris and peonies are two very useful plants for this purpose, flowering in May and June and for the rest of the season holding their substantial, well-set-up foliage. These two plants, if they receive even ordinary good treatment, may also be relied upon for masses of uniform bloom held well above the leaves; and while pure white peonies are a trifle monotonous and glaring unless blended with the blush, rose, salmon, and cream tints, there are any number of white iris both tall and dwarf with either self-toned flowers, or pencilled, feathered, or bordered with a variety of delicate tints, and others equally valuable of pale shades of lilac or yellow, the recurved falls being of a different tint.
Thus does Nature paint her pictures and give us hints to follow, and yet a certain art phase proclaims Nature's colour combinations crude and rudimentary forsooth!
An Iris Hedge.
Nature is never crude except through an unsuccessful human attempt to reproduce the uncopyable. Give one of these critics all the colour combinations of the evening sky and let him manipulate them with wires and what a scorched omelet he would make of the most simple and natural sunset!
While Nature does not locate the different colours on the palette to please the eye of man, but to carry out the various steps in the great plan of perpetuation, yet on that score it is all done with a sense of colour value, else why are the blossoms of deep woods, as well as the night-blooming flowers that must lure the moth and insect seekers through the gloom, white or light-coloured?
In speaking of white or pale flowers there is one low shrub with evergreen leaves and bluish-white flowers that I saw blooming in masses for the first time not far from Boston in early May. There was a slight hollow where the sun lay, that was well protected from the wind. This sloped gently upward toward some birches that margined a pond. The birches themselves were as yet but in tassel, the near-by grass was green in spots only, and yet here in the midst of the chill, reluctant promise of early spring was firmness of leaf and clustered flowers ofalmost hothouse texture and fragrance. Not a single spray or a dozen, but hundreds of them, covered the bushes.
This shrub isDaphne cneorum, a sturdier evergreen cousin ofDaphne mezereum, that brave-hearted shrub that often by the south wall of my garden hangs its little pink flower clusters upon bare twigs as early as the tenth of March. Put it on your list of desirables, for aside from any other situation it will do admirably to edge laurels or rhododendrons and so bring early colour of the rosy family hue to brighten their dark glossy leaves, for the sight and the scent thereof made me resolve to cover a certain nook with it, where the sun lodges first every spring. I am planting mine this autumn, which is necessary with things of such early spring vitality.
Another garden point akin to colour value in that it makes or mars has, I may say, run itself into my vision quite sharply and painfully this summer, and many a time have I rubbed my eyes and looked again in wonder that such things could be. This is the spoiling of a well-thought-out garden by the obtrusive staking of its plants. Of course there are many tall and bushy flowers—hollyhocks, golden glow, cosmos—that have not sufficient strength of stemto stand alone when the weight of soaking rain is added to their flowers and the wind comes whirling to challenge them to a dizzy dance, which they cannot refuse, and it inevitably turns their heavy heads and leaves them prone.
Daphne Cneorum.
Besides these there are the lower, slender, but top-heavy lilies, gladioli, carnations, and the like, that must not be allowed to soil their pretty faces in the mud. A little thinking must be done and stakes suitable to the height and girth of each plant chosen. If the purse allows, green-painted stakes of sizes varying from eighteen inches for carnations to six feet for Dahlias are the most convenient; but lacking these, the natural bamboos, that may be bought in bundles by the hundred, in canes of eight feet or more, and afterward cut in lengths to suit, are very useful, being light, tough, and inconspicuous.
In supporting a plant, remember that the object is as nearly as possible to supplement its natural stem. Therefore cut the stake a little shorter than the top of the foliage and drive it firmly at the back of the plant, fastening the main stem to the stake by loosely woven florist's string.
If, on the other hand, the plant to be supported is a maze of side branches, like the cosmos, or individualbushes blended so as to form a hedge, a row of stout poles, also a little lower than the bushes, should be set firmly behind them, the twine being woven carefully in and out among the larger branches, and then tightened carefully, so that the whole plant is gradually drawn back and yet the binding string is concealed.
If it is possible to locate cosmos, hollyhocks, and Dahlias (especially Dahlias) in the same place for several successive years, a flanking trellis fence of light posts, with a single top and bottom rail and poultry wire of a three inch mesh between, will be found a good investment. Against this the plants may be tethered in several places, and thus not only separate branches can be supported naturally, but individual flowers as well, in the case of the large exhibition Dahlias.
A Terrible Example!
Practicable as is the proper carrying out of the matter, in a score of otherwise admirable gardens we have seen the results of weeks and months of preparation either throttled and bound martyrlike to a stake or twisted and tethered, until the natural, habit of growth was wholly changed. In some cases the plants were so meshed in twine and choked that it seemed as if a spiteful fairy had woven a "cat's cradle" over them or that they had followed out the old proverb and,having been given enough rope, literally hanged themselves. In other gardens green stakes were set at intervals (I noticed it in the case of gladioli and carnations especially) and strings carried from one stake to the other, leaving each plant in the centre of a twine square, like chessmen imprisoned on the board. But the most terrible example of all was where either the owner or the gardener, for they were not one and the same, had purchased a quantity of half-inch pine strips at a lumber yard and proceeded to scatter them about his beds at random, regardless of height or suitability, very much as if some neighbouring Fourth of July celebration had showered the place with rocket sticks.
If your young German has time in the intervals of tree-planting and trellis-making, get him to trim some of the cedars of a diameter of two or three inches and stack them away for Dahlia poles. Next season you will become a victim of these gorgeous velvet flowers, I foresee, especially as I have fully a barrel of the "potatoes" of some very handsome varieties to bestow upon you. Make the most of Meyer, for he will probably grow melancholy as soon as cool weather sets in and he thinks of winter evenings and a sweetheart he has left in the fatherland!
We have had several Germans and they all hadlieber schatz, for jealousy or the scorn of whom they had left home, were for the same reason loath to stay away from it, and at the same time, owing to contending emotions, were unable to work so that they might return.
Are you not thinking about returning to your indoor bed and board again? With warm weather I fly out of the door as a second nature, but with a smart promise of frost I turn about again and everything—furniture, pictures, books, and the dear people themselves—seems refreshingly new and wholly lovable!
If you are thinking of making out a book list of your needs as an answer to your mother's or your "in-law's" query, "What do you want for Christmas?" write at the beginning—Bailey'sCyclopædia of American Horticulture, in red ink. Lavinia and Martin Cortright gave it to us last Christmas, the clearly printed first edition on substantial paper in four thick volumes, mind you, and it is the referee and court of appeals of the Garden, You, and I in general and myself in particular. Not only will it tell you everything that you wish or ought to know, but do it completely and truthfully. In short it is the perfect antidote toGarden Goozle!
(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)
Woodridge, October 10. Nearly a month of pen silence on my part, during which I have felt many times as if I must go from one to another of our chosen trees in the river woods and shake the leaves down so that the transplanting might proceed forthwith, lest the early winter that Amos Opie predicts both by a goose bone and certain symptoms of his own shall overtake us. Be this as it may, the leaves thus far prefer their airy quarters to huddling upon the damp ground.
However, there is another reason for haste more urgent than the fear of frost—the melancholy vein that you predicted we should find in Meyer is fast developing, and as we wish to have him leave us in a perfectly natural way, we think it best that his stay shall not be prolonged. At first he seemed not only absorbed by his work and to enjoy the garden and especially the river woods, but the trees and water rushing by.
A week ago a change came over him; he became morose and silent, and yesterday when I was admiring, half aloud, the reflection of a beautiful scarlet oak mirrored in the still backwater of the river, he paused in the kneeling position in which he was loosening the grasp of a white flowering dogwood, and first throwing out his arms and then beating his chest with them, exclaimed—"Other good have trees and water than for the eye to see; they can surely hang and drown the man the heart of whom holds much sorrow, and that man is I!"
Of course I knew that it was something a little out of the ordinary state of affairs that had sent a man of his capability to tramp about as a vagrant sort of labourer, but I had no previous idea that melancholy had taken such a grip upon him. Much do I prefer Larry, with periods of hilarity ending in peaceful "shlape." Certain peoples have their peculiar racial characteristics, but after all, love of an occasional drink seems a more natural proposition than a tendency to suicide, while as to the relative value of the labour itself, that is always an individual not a racial matter.
I too am feeling the domestic lure of cooler weather. All the day I wish to be in the open, but when the earlier twilight closes in, the house, with its lamps,hearth fires, and voices, weaves a new spell about me, though having once opened wide the door of outdoors it can never be closed.
Do you remember theMasque of Pandora, and the mysterious chest?
"PandoraHast thou neverLifted the lid?EpimetheusThe oracle forbids.Safely concealed there from all mortal eyesForever sleeps the secret of the Gods.Seek not to know what they have hidden from theeTill they themselves reveal it."
"PandoraHast thou never
Lifted the lid?
EpimetheusThe oracle forbids.
Safely concealed there from all mortal eyesForever sleeps the secret of the Gods.Seek not to know what they have hidden from theeTill they themselves reveal it."
Bart was reading it aloud to me last night. Prose read aloud always frets me, because one's mind travels so much faster than the spoken words and arrives at the conclusion, even if not always the right one, long before the printed climax is reached; but with good poetry it is different—the thoughts are so crystallized that the sound of a melodious voice liberates them more swiftly.
Verily Pandora's Chest has been opened this season here in the garden; the gods were evidently not unwilling and turned the lock for me, though perhapsI have thrown back the cover too rashly, for out has flown, instead of dire disaster, ambition in a flock of winged ideals, hopes, and wishes masquerading cleverly as necessities, that will keep me alert in trying to overtake and capture them all my life long.
Last night, once again comfortably settled in the den, we took inventory of the season's doings, and unlike most ventures, find there is nothing to write upon the nether page that records loss. Of the money set aside for the improvement of the knoll half yet remains, allowing for the finishing of the tree transplanting. Into this remainder we are preparing to tuck the filling for the rose bed, a goodly store of lily bulbs, some flowering shrubs, an openwork wire fence to be a vine-covered screen betwixt us and the road, instead of the broken rattling pickets, a new harness for Romeo to wear when he returns home, as a thank offering for his comfortable services (really the bridle of the old one is quite scratched to bits upon the various trees and rough fence rails to which he has been tethered), and last of all, what do you think? Three guesses may be easily wasted without hitting the mark, for instead of, as we expected, tearing down the old barn, our summer camp, we are going to remodel it to be a permanent outdoor shelter. It is to have a widechimney and fireplace at one end, before which our beds may be drawn campfire fashion if it is too cool, and adjustable shutters so that it may be either merely a roof or a fairly substantial cabin and at all possible seasons a study and playroom for us all. Then too we shall overlook "Maria Maxwell's Experiment," as Bart calls her scheme of running the Opal Farm. We were heartily glad to know that she had leased and not bought it, but we were much surprised to learn, first through the village paper, and not the man and woman concerned, that "Mr. Ross Blake, the engineer in charge of the construction of the new reservoir, believing in the future of the real-estate boom in Woodridge (we didn't know there was one), has recently purchased the Amos Opie farm as an investment, the deed being to-day recorded in the town house. He has already leased it for a young ladies' seminary, pending its remodelling, for which he himself is drawing the plans."
DearMan from Everywhere!much as I like Maria, I think he would be the more restful neighbour of the two. What a complete couple they might have made, but that is a bit of drift thought that I have put out of my head, for if any two people ever had a chance this summer to fall in love if they had the capacity,it was Maria andThe Man, and the strange part of it is that as far as may be known neither is nourishing the sentiment of a melancholy past and no other present man or woman stands between; perhaps it is some uncanny Opal spell that stays them. Yet even as it is, in this farm restoration both are unconsciously preparing to take a peep into Pandora's Chest full of the unknown, so let us hope the gods are willing.
Hallowe'en.The Infant and Anastasia, her memories revived by Larry's voluble and personally adapted folk-lore, are preparing all sorts of traps and feasts for good luck and fairies, while Lady Lazy is content to look at the log fire and plan for putting the garden to sleep. Yesterday I finished taking up my collection of peonies, Iris, and hardy chrysanthemums that had been "promised" at various farm gardens beyond the river woods, and duly cleared off my indebtednesses for the same with a varied assortment of articles ranging from gladioli bulbs, which seem to multiply by cube root here, to a pair of curling tongs, an article long coveted by a simple-minded woman of more than middle age, for the resuscitation of her Sunday front locks, and which though willing to acquire by barter she, as a deacon's wife,had a prejudice against buying openly over the counter.
Meyer has gone, having relapsed into comparative cheerfulness a few days before his departure on the receipt of a bulky letter which, in spite of the wear and tear of travel, remained heavily scented, coupled with Bart's assurance that he could remain in America another four weeks and still be at a certain Baltic town of an unpronounceable name in time for Christmas.
In spite of heavy frosts my pansies are a daily cheer, but it is really of no use for even the flowers of very hardy plants to struggle on against nature's decree of a winter sleeping time; the wild animals all come more or less under its spell, and the dogs, the nearest creatures of all to man, as soon as snow covers the ground and they have their experience of ice-cut feet, drowse as near the fire as possible and in case of a stove almost under it. I wonder if nature did not intend that we also should have at least a half-drowsy brooding time, instead of making the cold season so often a period of stress and strain and short days stretched into long nights. If so, we have taken the responsibility of acting for ourselves, of flying in nature's face in this as in many other ways.
Does it ever seem to you strange that our contrariness began within the year of our legendary creation, when Eve came to misery not by gazing in a bonnet shop, but when innocently wandering in her garden, the most beautiful of earth? By which we women gardeners should all take warning, for though the Tree of Life may be found in every garden,
"Yet sin and sorrow's pedigreeSpring from a garden and a tree."
December 10.Snow a month earlier than last year, but we rejoice in it, for it will keep the winds from the roots of the trees not yet wholly settled and comfortable in their new homes. The young hemlocks are bewitching in their wreaths and garlands, and one or two older trees give warmth to the woods beyond the Opal Farm and sweep the low, snow-covered meadow, that looks like a crystal lake, with their feathery branches. The cedars were beautiful in the May woods and so are they now, where I see them through the gap standing sentinels against the white of the brush lot. It seems to me that we cannot have too many evergreens any more than we can have too much cheerfulness.
The low, snow-covered meadow that looks like a crystal lake.
Copyright, 1902, H. Hendrickson
There are no paths in the garden now, a hint that our feet must travel elsewhere for a time, and Iconfess that Lady Lazy has not yet redeemed herself, and at present likes her feet to fall upon soft rugs. The Infant's gray squirrels, Punch and Judy, and the persistent sparrows have found their way to the house, taking their daily rations from the roof of the shed. Punch, stuffed to repletion, has acacheunder the old syringa bushes, the sparrows seeming to escort him in his travels to and fro, but whether for companionship or in hope of gain, who can say?
The plans for the remodelling of Opal Farm-house are really very attractive and yet it will be delightfully simple to care for. Maria andThe Manhave agreed better about them than over anything I have ever heard them discuss; but then, as it is purely a business arrangement, I suppose that Maria feels free from her usual pernickety restraint.
We surmise that either she has much more laid by than we supposed or she is waxing extravagant, for she has had the opal, thatThe Mangave her once in exchange for an old coin, surrounded with very good diamonds and set as a ring! Really I never before noticed what fine strong white hands she has.
I shall ask Father Penrose for theCyclopædia—it has a substantial sound that may soften his suspicion that we are not practical and were not properly grieved over the loss of the hens!
Woodridge, January 3.In the face of circumstances that prevent my holding the pen in my own hand, I am resolved that the first chronicle of the New Year shall be mine,—for by me it has sent The Garden, You, and I a new member and our own garden a new tree, an oak we hope.
The Infant is exultant at the evident and direct result of her dealings with the fairies, and keeps a plate of astonishing goodies by the nursery hearth fire; these, if the fairies do not feast upon personally, are appreciated by their horses, the mice.
His name is John Bartram Penrose, a good one to conjure with gardenwise, though he is no kin to the original. He has fresh-air lungs, and if he does not wax strong of limb and develop into a naturalist of some sort, he cannot blame his parents or their garden vacation.
MARY PENROSE,
her mark.
her mark
Punch ... has a cache under the old syringa bushes.
NameTenderor HardyColourHeightSeasonRemarksAquilegia—ColumbineH.P.*3 ft.JuneColumbines are among the most graceful and easily raised of hardy plants. They will thrive in open borders, but do better in partial shade, after the habit of our local species, the "Red Bells" of hillsides and rocky wood.ChrysanthaGolden yellowCœruleaRich BlueGlandulosa veraBlue and whiteCanterbury-BellH.B.**2 ft.JuneOld-fashioned plants of decorative value. As with all biennials, the plant dies soon after maturing seed; a new sowing should be made each spring and seedlings transplanted as soon as the old plant dies; this secures strong growth before winter.Campanula mediaBlue, white, pinkChimney Bell-FlowerCampanula pyramadalisH.P.Blue3-4 ft.Aug. to Oct.Desirable because of of its late blooming combined with its striking appearance. Should be planted in connection with the tall white hardy phlox.Coreopsis lanceolataH.P.Yellow1-2 ft.SummerA sturdy plant either for massing or as a border to sunny shrubberies. Flowers carried on long stems suitable for cutting.Candytuft—IberisH.P.1 ft.SummerWhen transplanted from seed bed, plants should be set eight inches apart to make the best effect, given room, they make fine compact bushes. The foliage is evergreen.SempervirensWhiteDelphinium—LarkspurH.P. Flowering first yearBlue, all shades3-7 ft.June, July, and Oct.Our most satisfactory blue flower, but like all of this colour should have a setting of white. If plants are cut down to the ground as soon as the blossoms fade, they will give a second crop in October.D. Grandiflorum ChinensisWhite and blue1-2 ft.SummerThese flowers have a peculiar brilliancy, and if set in a bed edged by sweet alyssum, are very satisfactory.Siberian LarkspurDianthus plumariusH.P.1 ft.May and June""There is nothing more suggestive of the old time gardens of sweet flowers than these fringed pinks. If once established in a well-drained spot, and not harassed, they will sow themselves and last for years. Her Majesty and Lord Lyon are new varieties, and as double as carnations.Scotch Clove PinkHer MajestyLord LyonVariousWhitePinkDianthus ChinensisChina PinkH.P.first yearVar.6 in.-1 ft.SummerExcellent for either bedding or edging. Have an apple fragrance.Dianthus HeddewigiiJapan PinkH.P.first yearVar.9 in.-1 ft.SummerThese summer pinks are not grown in masses as freely as as they deserve. They bloom with all the profusion of annuals without their frailty. For a succession the seed should be sown every year, as the old plants bloom earliest and the new follow them.Dianthus barbatusSweet-WilliamH.P.Var.1 ft.JuneAn old-time favourite with slightly fragrant blossoms that will keep a week in water when cut. A bed when once established will last a long time if a few of the finest heads of flowers are allowed to go to seed, as with many perennials the younger plants bloom more vigorously than the old.Digitalis—FoxgloveVariety gloxinoidesH.P.White, pink, purple, light yellow3 ft.JuneA dignified as well as a poetic flower if given its natural, half-wild surroundings. It will thrive best in partial shade if the soil be good. While if the stalks of seeds are saved and the contents scattered along wild walks or at the edge of woods, surprising results will follow.FeverfewChrysanthemum parthenium, doubleH.P.first yearWhite1-3 ft.SummerA very useful, double-flowered white composite, resembling a small chrysanthemum. It should be used freely as a setting for blue, pink, or magenta flowers.Forget-Me-NotMyosotis alpestris VictoriaH.P.Blue1 ft.Spring and autumnWell-known flowers that do best in moist borders or places where they can be watered freely. If cut down after first flowering, will bloom again in autumn.Gaillardia cristataBlanket FlowerH.P.first yearYellow and red1 ft.Until frostBrilliant and hardy plants for edging shrubbery or in separate beds. Sprawl too much for the mixed border.HollyhocksDouble and singleH.P.All colors4-7 ft.SummerOf late years these decorative plants have suffered from a blight that turns the leaves yellow and soon spreads to the stalks. Use great care that the soil be new and well drained, sprinkle powdered sulphur and unslaked lime on surface and dig it in shortly before setting out the seedlings. Also spray young plants well with diluted Bordeaux mixture at intervals before the flowers show colour.A large bed should be given to this flower, with either a wall or hedge as a background, and they should be allowed to seed themselves from the best flowers. Thus a natural and artistic effect is produced unlike the stiff lines of tightly staked plants.New Hybrid Hollyhockflowers first year from seedAll colors4 ft.HonestyLunaria biennisH.B.White to lilac2 ft.JuneThe old English flower of colonial gardens. Should be massed. The silvery moons of its seed vessels make unusual winter bouquets.LupinsLupinus polyphyllusH.P.Rich blue3 ft.JuneGood for planting before the white flowering June shrubs. Flowers borne erect upon long spikes. Very difficult to transplant unless the long root is kept intact.HorsemintMonada didyma-Bee balmor Oswego teaMonada fistulosaH.P.Deep red2-3 ft.SummerSturdy and somewhat coarse plants, their square stems telling the kinship with the familiar mints. Of good decorative effect, should be used as a background in the bed of sweet odours, as especially after a rain they yield the garden a clean fragrance of tonic quality. The bergamot grows wild in many places and is easily transplanted.Wild BergamotH.P.Lavender3-6 ft.SummerPrimulaEnglish Field PrimroseH.P.Primrose yellow6 in.MayThe beautiful tufted primrose of the English poets. Grows in this country best on moist, grassy banks under high or in partial shade. It has, during the ten years that I have grown it, proved entirely hardy. The seed may be in the ground a year before germinating, but once established the plant cares for itself.Primula Japonicamixed borderH.P.Yellows and reds6 in.-1 ft.MayThe border primrose so freely used in England but rarely seen in everyday gardens here, where I have found it perfectly hardy. Makes a border of rich colour for the May garden. Must be watered freely in hot, dry seasons.Primula OfficinalisCowslipH.P.Yellow1 ft.MayThe English cowslip, a charming garden flower, but more at home in nooks of grassy banks, like the primrose, or in the open.Poppy{ Iceland poppy{ P. nudicaleH.P.Yellow and white1 ft.Early SummerPoppies are very difficult to transplant, owing to their long, sensitive roots, though it can be done. It is easier, therefore, to sow them thinly where they are to remain and weed them out.P. orientaleH.P.Dazzling scarlet2-3 ft.JuneA gorgeous flower, subject to damping off if heavy rains come when it is in full bloom. Should be used to fill in between white shrubs, as its colour is impossible near any of the pink, purple, or magenta June flowers, and a single plant misplaced will ruin your garden.PhloxP. paniculataH.P.In variety, crimson, purple, salmon, carmine, and white with colored eye3-4 ft.July-Oct. Miss Lingard in JuneOffshoots of these hardy phloxes may be usually obtained by exchange from some friend, as they increase rapidly. But there is a charm in raising seedlings on the chance of growing a new species. These phloxes are the backbone of the hardy garden from July until frost, while Miss Lingard, a fine white variety, blooms in June to be a setting for the blue larkspurs.Phlox subulataMoss PinkH.P.Pink and white6 in.The dwarf phlox that hides its foliage under sheets of pink or white bloom and makes the great mats of colour seen among rock work and on dry banks in parks and public gardens.PentstemonEuropean varieties. MixedH.P.Many rich colours3 ft.SummerVery fine border plants, almost as decorative as foxgloves, showing tints of reds through pink, white, blue and white cream, etc.Pansiesin varietiesH.B.flowers first yearMany rich colours1 ft.April to Dec.It is usual to sow pansies in frames during September and October, winter them under cover, and transplant to beds the following spring.If pansies (well soaked previously) are sown in the seed bed in late August or early September, they will be compact little plants by November, when they may be transplanted to their permanent bed or else covered where they stand, protected by leaves between the rows and a few evergreen boughs or a little salt hay over them. If an entire bed is set apart set apart for pansies and only the finest flowers allowed to seed, the bed will keep itself going for several years by merely thinning and adjusting the seedlings.Day PrimroseŒnothera fruticosaH.P.Golden yellow1 ft.Early summerA day-flowering member of the evening-primrose family, resembling the golden sundrops of our June meadows. Very fragrant, and if once established, will sow itself.Evening PrimroseŒnothera biennisH.B.Yellow3 ft.All summerThe exquisitely scented silver-gold flower that unfurls at twilight to give a supper to the hawk moths, upon whom it depends for fertilization. Grows in dry soil and should be used in masses to fill in odd corners.ViolasTufted Pansy-violetsfor beddingH.P.Purple,yellow, rose, mauve, white6 in.April to Oct.A race of plants closely resembling pansies, that fill an important place in the gardens of Europe, but are as yet little known here, though they are as hardy as the primulas. As a border for shrubs or rose beds they are excellent, but when planted as a bed, should be in partial shade.
* : Hardy Perennial.** : Hardy Biennial.