Let's Make a Flower Garden

'**<? IS* IUe ?* Plover (ItwJ Lex's Mfelce ^ Mower v&^raen DECORATIONS BY FRANK VERBECK 1U York • 1912 • McbrlJe. Narf &Compeaiy Copyright, 1912, by McBride, Nast & Co. W^ Published, March, 1912 i >» r\\ « i> i n l P P TO MY GARDEN PARTNER PREFACE Several of the chapters in this book have appeared, essentially in their present form, in The Craftsman, The Ladies 9 World, Suburban Life and House and Garden. To the editors of these magazines the author's thanks are due for permission to use this material again. CONTENTS PAGE Introduction 1 The First Year 7 Annuals 15 Biennials and Perennials 29 Lilies, Iris and Peonies 46 Roses -.- 57 Other Roses 73 Bulbs . 85 The Wild Flowers . 95 Shrubs and Vines 106 The Hotbed and Transplanting ........ 115 The Transient Eden 124 Garden Furniture 130 The Garden of Lure 136 The Garden in Winter 142 Care of the Garden Birds 150 What My Garden Means to Me 160 THE ILLUSTRATIONS Perhaps I plagiarized a bit from the Japanese in design- ing my arches Frontispiece FACING PAGE Blossoms which lure to the garden birds I would never otherwise see 12 Clematis 13 Nothing is so absolutely entrancing as a clump of nicotiana in the moon glow 26 Salpiglossis 27 The Canterbury Bells add a delicacy and poetry to every bed in which they chime 42 Hardy chrysanthemums 43 The most decorative form in all the flower world ... 58 German iris 59 " The horse-bitten rose " .74 Maman Cochet roses 75 Tall single tulips and the eccentric parrots 106 Narcissus 107 In its ghost stage the dandelion reaches the spiritual . .114 Sedge 115 THE ILLUSTRATIONS—continued FACING PAGE Arch and trellis are painted a soft gray green . .130 Sweet peas 131 We transplant our Shirley poppies and thereby have them just where we want them 146 Shirley poppies 147 An annual hollyhock 154 Coboea scandens 155 A bench along Dutch lines .160 Lady Gay roses about the sundial 161 The public bath where members of the orchestra bathe and drink 170 A buccaneer butterfly 171 A brook breaking ice barriers in spring 180 A bluejay 181 The poor English sparrow does not deserve the continuous persecution that he suffers under 188 The insatiable robin 189 The guardian of the garden 202 Pan 203 Introduction ion rT^HERE are some phrases which carry magic in •*- their sound, a magic which cannot be explained by mere logic, and the greatest of these phrases is, " Let's make a garden." It has a " Merry Christ- mas," " Hurrah for the Fourth of July " tinkle of joy. The instinct to mingle with the soil evidences itself in the mud pie stage of childhood; as we grow older we merely make many more, and much more beauti- ful mud pies with frosting of perfumed color, and call it Garden. No one ever entirely grows up who lives in a garden. I feel sure almost all gardeners still believe in Santa Claus ; and as for fairies, was it not in Kensington Gardens that Mr. Barrie discovered all the wonderful facts about Peter Pan? Perhaps it is the help of the Little People that makes gardening so easy for mortals. I know many professionals try to scare one with all 1 sorts of bugaboo theories of the difficulties of flower culture; but to refute this, we only have to take a drive through the outlying districts of the town where the workmen and washerwomen — the so-called hum- bler citizens — live, and the prodigality of bloom sur- rounding each busy doorstep will soon show us what wealth even the supposed poor may own, without adding extra burden to their tired backs. We have to learn to cook, to sew, to paint, to write, but there is scarcely the littlest child who does not naturally grasp a hoe, and use it as if he were born a graduate in the science. This is probably an inherited instinct, for all of us are descended from some original tiller of the soil. It is the oldest pro- fession in the world. As Plutarch says, " There is no exercise nor oc- cupation which so certainly bringeth a man to love and desire quietness as doth husbandry and till- age." In the springtime the sap of enthusiasm and new life begins to stir in mortals just as it does in trees; this fact, noted by the Romans, was expressed in the name given by them to the first spring month, which they called A prills, " because then is the chiefest force and strength." June (from juniores, mean- 19's Mak a loftcr CarJen ing young men) was so called because it was as the youth of the year. As far back as the 8th century, B. C, there lived one Hesiodus who was a poet, and being one, his thoughts derived their inspiration and sustenance from the earth. So great an authority did he be- come on flowers, on all growing things, the influence of the moon on plants, and lucky and unlucky days for sowing, that he constantly spoke in proverbs con- cerning these things. One can easily fancy all friends pressing Hesiodus to put his thoughts into enduring form. This he eventually did, becoming the father of all garden books, and the author of a volume entitled " Works and Days," which con- tained practical maxims and directions for husbandry in all its phases. Nearly three thousand years have passed since that old book was written, yet to-day the subject is still as fresh and inexhausti- ble as the spring itself. Even the seed catalogues come absolutely new to the mind each season. I shall never forget the day in my childhood when I discovered the first floral catalogue. It was an epoch. It opened the gate to the land of heart's desire, the vineyard of dreams. Catalogues haven't changed much since my child- 3 hood; I should hate to think they could. I've read every description, every promise, thousands of times, yet never has my imagination felt jaded, never have I failed to experience the old-new thrill. In all the world's literary classics, none contain for me the in- exhaustible lure, the enchantment, the dream material, to be found in the seed catalogue. The making of a garden is much like the forma- tion of character — the loveliest mature characters are often the result of many early mistakes. But the very fact that the garden is a matter of growth makes it worth while, and there is no art in which there are such compensations in the primary grade. If you have brought one flower to perfection you have not failed. When a day has been hard indoors and full of defeat, a walk through the garden dis- pels all the mists of gloom. It is the consolation of flowers which is the real tie between them and mankind. And there is never strife among the blossoms; they exhale peace as they breathe per- fume. The only time a garden is disappointing is when we are taking strangers through it, and I think that is perhaps because flowers are so like love. It is when you walk alone, or with someone dear to you, 4 among your flower-children, that they tell you all their secrets of joy. I sometimes wonder just when I am happiest in the garden. Is it when I am working with garden tool in spring, my inner vision abloom with dreams of future loveliness, made possible by my labor; or is it when I later on go forth in the early summer mornings with scissors and basket, gathering hun- dreds of roses, and great golden bunches of double sunflowers, and blue bouquets of cornflower and lark- spur? Then again I think it is most restful when I walk about after mealtime, stooping to inquire about the health of some frail plant, hunting ex- pected buds in another, gathering a few ripening seeds here and there, putting a rose branch in place, and then lingering and looking and gloating over the beauty of everything. Again I seem happiest when, the day's work done, I lie in a hammock in the gloam- ing shadows of the pines, enjoying the sunset glint- ing through stencilled leaf form and reflected in dis- tant flower groups, while blackbirds, gathered in the boughs overhead, give that strange cry which thrills the imagination with its wildness, breaking the shackles of domesticated thought. But when the moon comes over the eastern turrets 5 IS's Make * E>*er (SwJen of cedars, and I sit at the threshold of my rose garden silently with one to whom words are unnecessary, my eyes resting now on the garden of stars above, now on the rose stars below, then indeed the garden brings a brooding sense of completeness, content and blessing — and I ask no more of life. I have never resented being told I was made out of dust, which really means soil, for to have the same origin as the flowers and trees is a very fine thing indeed, and makes us cousins to the violet and sisters of the oak. The flowers give us a truer sense of values ; we do not envy the dwellers in the money-mart; we have a wealth which pays its hourly dividends in beauty and happiness, and to add to our wealth we do not need to rob or hurt any other fellow mortal. We do not desire extraneous excitement, for a garden ban- ishes boredom ; no hour is empty, no day is futile.

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