Gardens near the sea; the making and care of gardens on or near the coast with reference also to lawns and grounds and to trees and shrubbery

FAN
PY
\SIS
AN.
\A\DaL

CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

In compliance with current
Copyright law, Cornell University
Library produced this
replacement volume on paper
that meets the ANSI Standard
Z39.48-1992 to replace the
irreparably deteriorated original.

2005

Gornell Mniversity

Fthaca, New York

COLLEGE OF ARCHITECTU RE
LIBRARY

DELPHINIUMS NEAR THE SrA

GARDENS NEAR
THE SEA

THE MAKING AND CARE OF GARDENS ON OR NEAR THE COAST
WITH REFERENCE ALSO TO LAWNS AND GROUNDS
AND TO TREES AND SHRUBBERY

BY
ALICE LOUNSBERRY

AUTHOR OF “SOUTHERN WILD FLOWERS AND TREES,” “A GUIDE TO THE
WILD FLOWERS,” “A GUIDE TO THE TREES,” “THE WILD FLOWER
BOOK FOR YOUNG PEOPLE,” AND “THE GARDEN BOOK
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE”

WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE COLOR-PLATES FROM
PAINTINGS BY

H. W. FAULKNER
AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS

TOGETHER WITH SIXTY-FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
PHOTOGRAPHS IN BLACK-AND-WHITE

NEW YORK

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1910, by
Freperick A. STOKES CoMPANY

vas

LS October, 1910

THE + PLIMPTON » PRESS
[w-p-o]
NORWOOD + MASS-U-S-A

FOREWORD
[= ois as is its charm, the sea cannot hold

us by its side, spellbound in contemplation of
its calm and restless moods. Mingled with
its turbulent roar we hear a cry for beauty along its
shores, and for intimacy with a gentler and more
familiar life. The dwellers by its side long for the
fragrance of flowers as an occasional relief from its
strong saline scent. Indeed, dwelling along a barren
strip of seashore can never have the captivating grace
of living where the coast line shows the green things
of the earth, either as nature placed them or in skil-
fully devised gardens.

The impetus to garden building has swept over
and beyond our inland towns and villages with the
result that the shores of America are now dotted with
many beautiful gardens, large and small, costly and
simple. Moreover, many of the oldest gardens of this
country, which are associated with history and romance,
are found in places partly bounded by the sea.

It is not unusual now, nor has it ever been, for that
matter, to find gardens near the sea. It is merely
because of their universality in these days that they
cannot escape the eye of the wanderer through the
populous towns along the seacoast. This is as it should
be, since along the coasts the number of summer

[v]

FOREWORD

homes has of late increased greatly, and the garden
is but the home out-of-doors. In fact, wherever there
is one, there should, if possible, be the other. The
summer home without a garden seems like a city
without the clang of bells, the shriek of whistles, and
the busy, throbbing traffic of humanity.

It is not difficult to fall under the domination of
a garden, to the charms of which one becomes, indeed,
a most willing captive. The first step, perhaps, is
taken in admiration of a neighbor’s garden; the second
may be made with a few experimental plants, or a
handful of seed packages; the third follows with the
care of these, wherein lurks the desire to have them
grow, to see them bloom, and to walk among them as
one’s own. Once these three steps are taken, few
would turn back. Each year the number of plants is
increased; the boundaries of the garden are extended,
and the care and attention which it demands form
a source of pleasure that few wish to relinquish.

While riding last summer in a dusty train, through
the full length of Long Island, I heard a man tell
his little daughter to remain quietly in her seat while
he went into another car to smoke a cigar.

On his return he asked her if she were tired.

“Oh, no,” she answered; “I have been counting
the gardens. There is another! That makes one
hundred and twenty.”

The train had passed by a hundred and twenty
gardens while this man was smoking a cigar.

These were not the gardens of fine estates, but
of very small houses bordering the railway. Some

[vi]

FOREWORD

of them held but a few kinds of flowers, and among
them a great sameness prevailed, for almost without
exception they represented the conspicuously thrifty
plants of that locality which were then in bloom.
Their owners had planted them without a thought
that there might be failure to fulfil their expectations.
Still, here and there could be seen plants that had been
introduced within the last few years. Undoubtedly,
they had first been experimented with in the gardens
of adjacent large estates, and some one had reproduced
them by means of a clipping or a root in the gardens
of the unpretentious.

I noticed especially that the crimson rambler rose
bloomed in the majority of these wayside gardens.
It occurred as generally as did geraniums, climbing
up the side of the houses, peeping into the windows,
mounting the fences, and in every way showing the
characteristics of a truly domesticated plant. Its
apparent thriftiness, however, merely proclaimed it
to be admirably adapted to the surrounding soil of
the island and its climate. Although a native of
Japan, it held its own with the indigenous plants,
sometimes even showing with outstretched zeal the
wish to oust them from their places.

To construct a good seaside garden it is necessary,
as with all other gardens, first to learn what plants
are best adapted by nature to its special conditions.
Nature in her wild haunts gives many hints as to the
kinds of plants she employs in various places, as,
wherever there is opportunity, she sends up some
green thing to soften the surface of the earth. The

[ vii ]

FOREWORD

scrub, the vines, and the more delicate wildlings that
belong to particular seaside soils can frequently be
used more advantageously in the garden than plants
whose needs, both below and above ground, are at
variance with their surroundings. For unless plants
can have just what they need, it is better to give up
growing them at all. Their roots require food and a
firm anchorage, and according to their individualities
they must have either light or shade and a helpful
soil to bring them to their best development.

All seaside gardens, however, do not fall under
the same laws. Gardens adjoining bare strips of
sand have different possibilities from those near a
rocky coast. The gardens along the Sound and many
parts of Long Island produce, in the majority of in-
stances, the same flora as that known to the inland
places of the northeastern states. There is even a
remarkable luxuriance of growth about many of these
gardens barely rivaled by those more sheltered.

It must not be thought that the gardens referred
to in these pages, and the plants which, among myriads
of others, have been selected for description, are merely
those that follow the sea snugly as its own boundary
line. They are, rather, those that exist and thrive
in the cities and townships lying close to the water.
Some of these gardens are almost touched by the sea;
others are farther away; but none are absolutely
beyond the reach of its salt, vivifying breath. The
desire underlying these descriptions is to give still
another testimony to the real joy gained through lawn
making, shrub and tree planting, garden building, and

[ viii ]

FOREWORD

general work in the open about the home, to urge the
best and fullest growth along the shores, and to spread
the earth with flowers, undaunted even by the wild,
fierce moods of the uncontrollable sea.

The originals of the colored illustrations which
this book contains were painted by Mr. Herbert W.
Faulkner. They represent seaside gardens of different
personalities. One, as the peony garden, is flamboyant
under the full sun; another shows a garden swayed
by the mystic influence of twilight. Each in its
individual way portrays the dominant spirit of the
garden, working for magnetic charm and beauty.

The many photographs should also prove helpful
to garden builders near the sea.

[ix]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

FOREWORD (THE SEASIDE GARDEN)
THE SOIL AND LAWNS OF SEASIDE PLACES
THE SEASIDE GARDEN UNDER DIFFICULTIES
THE TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN
EVERGREEN TREES
BROAD-LEAVED EVERGREEN SHRUBS

peat
SHRUBS FOR SEASIDE PLANTING
HEDGES .
Beech
CONCERNING VINES
A FEW WORDS ABOUT STANDARDS
THE PLACING OF THE GARDEN
BULBOUS PLANTS OF DIFFERENT SEASONS .
THE PLANTING OF THE SPRING AND SUMMER
AUTUMN WORK IN THE GARDEN
ANNUALS OF ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS
FAVORITE PERENNIALS OF THE SALT SPRAY
AN IRIS GARDEN
THE GARDEN LILIES
GARDENS OF ROSES
GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS .
GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT AND SENTIMENT
INDEX

PAGE

102
111
127
143
152
168
192
202
210
245
255

267

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PLATE FACING PAGE
I AN UNPRETENTIOUS GARDEN 3” ae Os 2
II A SEASIDE GARDEN ....... . 6
II] AN ATTRACTIVE SLOPING LAWN. . . . . 10
IV AN ENCLOSED LAWN... .... . 14
V oA TRYING PLACE FOR FLOWERS. . . . . 18
VI VETERAN TREES ABOUT THE HOUSE... . 20
VII WHITE WILLOWS, SALEM, MASS. as eee Q4
VIII oaKS NEAR THE WATER... .. . .. 28
IX MAGNOLIA STELLATA. . . . . . .. 32
XX WELL-GROWN SPRUCES, PORTSMOUTH, N. H. . 36
XI =SPRUCES THAT PLANT OUT A BUILDING... 40
XII prmInes NEAR THE WATER, COHASSET, MASS. . 44
XIII CLIPPED EVERGREENS IN A FORMAL GARDEN . 46
XIV Ich PICTURES. 2.0 2 2. «© . » « « 60
XV THE OUTER BORDER OF A FORMAL GARDEN
(color): saaeerss Sy Crary Care 54
XVI RHODODENDRONS IN AN OLD GARDEN... 58
XVII RHODODENDRONS AND NARCISSUS POETICUS . 62
XVIII THE WAY TO THE BATH HOUSE, OAK BLUFFS,
MASS. PO oy he, oe le ee 66
XIX sPIRHA VAN HOUTTEI ....... 70
XX HYDRANGEAS AT BABYLON, L.I. . . .. 74
XXI GRAPE VINE SCREEN AND PRIVET HEDGE. . 78
XXII BUCKTHORN HEDGE ......... 82
XXIII THE OUTER AND THE INNER HEDGE... 86
XXIV TULIPS BEFORE A HEMLOCK SPRUCE HEDGE . 88
XXV A BOX-EDGED PATH .. ; 92

XXXVI WISTARIA IN AN OLD SALEM GARDEN (color) . 96
[ xiii]

XXX
XXXI

XXXII
XXXII
XXXIV

XXXV
XXXVI

XXXVIT
XXXVIII
XXXTX

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

AN OLD WISTARIA VINE . 100
ARCH OF VIRGINIA CREEPER 104
CLEMATIS PANICULATA AND NASTURTIUM VINE 106
SUR LA MER, MARTHA’S VINEYARD, MASS. 110
STANDARD CATALPAS AND HELIOTROPES, INDIAN
HARBOR, CONN. . , 114
AN EARLY AMERICAN GARDEN : 118
GARDEN WITH CENTRAL WATER BASIN 122
WHERE AN ENTRANCE IS MADE THROUGH AGATE 124
A GARDEN OF MANY ARCHES 128
CROCUSES : cS . 182
MIXED SINGLE HYACINTHS PLANTED EN MASSE 136
GRAPE HYACINTHS 140
GUINEA-HEN FLOWERS 144
CROWN IMPERIALS 148
PEONIES IN A SUNLIT GARDEN (ecleiye 152
TYPES OF ANNUAL POPPIES . 156
PEONIES IN AN OLD GARDEN 160
PHLOX 162
TIME-TRIED PERENNIALS 166
A MASS OF TANGLED FOLIAGE 170
SHRUBS DONE UP FOR THE WINTER 174
MASS PLANTING OF PETUNIAS 178
THE DAY OF THE PHLOXES (color) 182
PHLOX SUBULATA 186
ADONIS VERNALIS . 190
AQUILEGIA CALIFORNICA . 2 = G94
DELPHINIUMS NEAR THE SEA (calor) . Frontispiece
CANTERBURY BELLS : 198
SEASIDE GARDENS IN BOATS f . 202
THE WATER GARDEN, EASTHAMPTON, L. I.
(color) 206
SPANISH IRISES 208
DIKE IN THE WATER GARDEN 212

JAPANESE IRISES IN THE WATER GARDEN
[ xiv ]

216

PLATE
LX
LXI
LXII
LXUI
LXIV
LXV
LXVI
LXVII

LXVIII
LXIX

LXX
LXXI
LXXII

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

THE LOTUS LILY ;

LILIUM SPECIOSUM RUBRUM

THE ABUNDANCE OF SUMMER (ealan)

MME. CAROLINE TESTOUT

FRAU KARL DRUSCHEKI ee:

STEPS LEADING FROM AN UPPER GARDEN .

CLIMBING CLOTILDE SOUPERT a

OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN SHOWING FEW FLOW-
ERS, SSO cuit Co

A FORMAL GARDEN IN MAGNOLIA, MASS.

AN ARRANGEMENT BOTH FORMAL AND NATU-
RALISTIC . .

AN OLD GARDEN IN SALEM, MASS. :

A GARDEN OVER A HUNDRED YEARS OLD .

TWILIGHT AT SYLVESTER MANOR, SHELTER
ISLAND (color)

220
224
228
232
236
240
242

246
250

254
256
260

264

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

CHAPTER I

THE SOIL AND LAWNS OF SEASIDE PLACES

sandy and the surroundings saline, and where
all verdure appears to turn its head inland
toward a milder air and a richer soil, it has sometimes
been thought impossible to raise a good turf, let alone
a fine lawn. Undoubtedly, it is in such places that
plant life needs encouragement. Even a sustained
effort may be necessary before satisfactory lawns can
be established and gardens started on their way.
Still, before the lawn or the garden is made there is
the ever-present soil to be taken into consideration.
Usually the soul near the sea is abundantly sandy
and porous, and a heavier earth is sometimes added to
it, or an ample supply of well-rotted manure, that the
plants my obtain sufficient nourishment and the soil
about them be able to hold moisture longer than is
possible when it is very light. Before grass seed is
sown, a top-dressing of about two inches of rich soil
should almost invariably be placed over the sand in
order to make a strong turf; one that, if sprinkled
and tended during dry weather, will be permanent.
If the turf lies so near the sea that it is occasionally
dashed with salt spray, its chances of life and perma-
nence are of course very slight. Apart from this

[1]

[ places bordering the coasts where the soil is

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

drawback, however, the long roots of the seeds started
in the top-dressing strike down deeply into the under-
lying sand and take a hold that enables them to endure
for many years.

The lawns of homes which are close to the sea
should naturally be located well out of reach of the salt
spray, an enemy turning green into black and leaving
devastation in his wake. It then depends entirely
on the quality of the soil of the proposed lawn
whether a top-dressing is desirable, or whether the
lawn may be made by relying solely on such fertili-
zation and enrichment as plays a part in most plant
cultivation.

To have a successful garden, the soil about a country
place must be good. It is almost as important as
the foundation of the house. For although there
are plants so long-enduring that they will live and
bloom under adverse conditions of soil and situation,
yet their beauty is then not seen at its best, nor will
they live for a particularly long time. They become
but weaklings among their kin, and are out of the
running as are sickly people in the human race.

It is sometimes difficult to establish a fine lawn
about many country homes where the ground has
been filled in and much grading done, since, almost
invariably, the soil supplied by the contracters has
been of the poorest quality. For years afterward the
plaint is heard, “Nothing does well here, the soil is
so poor.” By giving some attention, however, to
the character of the soil used for such purposes, the
lawn could at once be started advantageously, and the

[2]

1 GALV1d

N@AGUV)D SQOLLNULAUd NI) NV

SOIL AND LAWNS

work of the future become simply that of additional
planting and embellishment.

There are, besides, many places by the sea where
nature herself supplies an admirable soil for lawn
building and flower growing. The soil of New
England’s rocky coast and that of both sides of Long
Island Sound, as well as that of northern New Jersey
and some states farther south, seldom show the need
of a complete top-dressing. However, if one wished
to make a lawn at Atlantic City, it would surely be
necessary to cover the soil there with another of some
richness and body.

Colonel Young has built a garden on the million
dollar pier at Atlantic City that divides attention
with his sea-lions and his statuary. The garden is
ostensibly one for the casual sightseer. In it gera-
niums, sweet alyssum, ageratums, and other well-
known plants live through their day much as they
do in other places. The position of the house acts as
a wave break for the garden, giving it the protection
from salt spray without which it could not live. The
soil in this garden appears almost black, somewhat
like swamp earth, while through it the native sand
shines as grains of silver. The remarkable stretches
of turf about the Oriental and the Manhattan Beach
Hotels of Long Island have only been made possible
by covering the sand with a layer of rich soil.

A sandy soil, in fact, enriched with one of more
body and nourishing properties, is likely to favor the
ambition of garden builders. A clayey, hard soil
inclined to cake is the one of all others that is most

[3]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

undesirable in a garden, and fortunately one that
makes small claim to seaside space.

As soon as the soil about a country home has
passed under scrutiny and is regulated, the lawn
should receive a full share of attention. The lawn is
not merely grass; it forms the greensward outlining
the spaces held free for different forms of growth.
Gleaming from under the snow in emerald patches,
sometimes in the very heart of winter, it whispers of
spring sooner than do the flowers. Its beauty cannot
be overestimated, and when it is unsightly the effect
upon the appearance of the home and garden cannot
be too deeply lamented.

Such problems of drainage, grading, and road and
path construction as are present should naturally be
worked out in detail prior to sowing grass seed. As a
rule the makers of lawns and gardens come into their
own after the engineering features of a place, its bound-
aries, and the question of its soil have been settled.
Only then can the lawn be rightly started; a work
that, in its turn, should be followed by the planting
of trees, shrubs, and vines — individuals outside the
garden, yet which unlock for it the door of expecta-
tion. Later the garden itself becomes the center of
interest. It should then be remembered that, as well
as beauty, a garden should have permanence, such as
is given largely by herbaceous plants. Such plants
will not, however, thrive in a shallow soil.

Each one of the innumerable seaside gardens in
this country includes, perhaps has approaching it,
beside it, or in its vicinity, a greensward that, if justice

[4]

SOIL AND LAWNS

were done, should have as constant and thorough
attention as the garden itself. To set up one position
or style of lawn over all others would be useless, since
each individual lawn must be treated according to
its location, its size, and its governing characteristics.
To step from the veranda to a secluded greensward,
in which each blade of grass holds itself as proudly
as a plant in bloom, and to wander over it seeking,
perchance, the garden, is one of the exquisite pleasures
of life in a well-cultivated bit of country.

At many English country homes tea is served on
the lawn when the increasing scent of the flowers
gives token of the coming twilight. In this country
too, more than ever before, it is now regarded as the
home without walls. In seasons to come, when, no
doubt, the ubiquitous mosquito shall have been properly
conquered, it is likely that lawns will be still more
appreciated and fostered than at present.

The greater number of lawns in this country have
not, as yet, reached a high state of perfection. This
is owing partly to the difficulty in securing pure grass
seed, and also to a lack of deep culture and sustained
vigilance in combating weeds. Indeed, when one has
a warlike nature, a lawn is an excellent field in which
to break it; for, after a season of grappling with weeds
and scarce an interval to lay down arms, it is almost
against the natural order of things that the most mar-
tial spirit should not be tamed and humiliated on
seeing them spring up again with undiminished ardor.
New lawns are frequently made with selected sods
that soon settle in place and quickly form a good and

[5]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

permanent lawn. Too much care, however, cannot
be given to the quality of the sods thus employed.
It is as necessary to see that they are of an enduring
variety of grass and free from weeds as it is to plant
rose bushes that are untouched by disease. Lawns
formed in this way are naturally more costly than
those produced from seed.

Deep culture of the soil is of the utmost advantage
to a lawn about to be made with seed; that is, the
ground should be dug or plowed over to the depth of
about a foot, stones and all objectionable matter should
be removed, and the roots of weeds, especially, should '
be taken away and burned. Then, not until the soil
has been repeatedly forked and worked and the last
weeds despatched, is it time to cover it liberally with
well-decomposed manure.

But before this work is done the ground, as pre-
viously intimated, must have been graded, and, if
necessary, drained, which fortunately is not usually
required. When plans are made for small lawns they
very seldom need much grading; but when they are to
be large, the work should be guided by a master hand,
or at least by some one who has made a close observa-
tion of lawns.

The most attractive lawns are not always those
that are the most level. Slight undulations of the
ground leading, perhaps, to some recognized point of
interest are more in accordance with the varying lines
of nature, showing little that is rigidly executed.
Pronouncedly steep slopes are rather to be avoided,
since they take away from the sense that a lawn is a

[6]

NGCUVD ACISVAS V TL OLLVTd

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

that while one variety will do well in a particular soil,
it may do but poorly in another. Redtop grass seed,
one of the most generally used varieties, is not well
suited to the sandy soil of many seaside places, as
it is very susceptible to droughts and the sunshine on
the sand during the early stages of its growth. Ken-
tucky blue grass, one of the most enduring of grasses,
takes, on the contrary, a good hold on sandy ground
and forms a strong turf, although not of so fine a quality
as other varieties that demand more from the soil.
Red or creeping fescue has been found to resist droughts
and to form a durable turf on soils that are light and
sandy.

Seedsmen and others skilled in making fine lawns
suggest, as has been intimated, various kinds of grass
seed for diverse soils, and although individual experi-
ments are apt to bring out many unexpected and
interesting phases of the way in which particular
seeds act on certain soils, there is already enough
systematized knowledge on the subject to start the
amateur lawn maker cheerfully on his way.

The grass seed of lawns should, moreover, be sown
by one skilled in this art, which requires much care.
Then, after the seed has been worked into the soil with
a fine-toothed rake, it should be rolled heavily. This
rolling is important to form an even surface, and
should be repeated at intervals even after the ground
is green with the upspringing blades. Frequent mowing
tends to strengthen and thicken the growth of grass,
and heavy rolling, when the earth is moist, helps to
keep its surface even. In times of drought the lawns

[8]

SOIL AND LAWNS

should be watered frequently; persistent weeds should
be taken out with a knife; the bare spots, if any occur,
should be resown, and every autumn and spring the
ground should be fertilized again. The idea that a lawn
once made can endure unaided forever is as fallacious
as the belief that hardy plants will thrive without the
assistance of the gardener.

Grass, it is true, is a perennial, recurring year
after year. It is not so strong, however, as many
weeds, and therefore can be quickly overridden, since
it is dependent on unstinted nourishment.

Every one, perhaps, has his ideal of a lawn. There
comes now to my mind one, of such exquisite texture
and dignity of position, that it seems as if but one
opinion could exist concerning its beauty. It is
placed, not at the front of the house, but at the rear,
and is approached by way of a large, formal garden.
When one passes this garden the lawn comes into view
as a broad and expanding picture, such as nature plans
when in her pleasantest mood. From the garden it
slopes slightly downward to a level, extensive center,
and then appears to be graded gradually upward until
lost at the base of the trees bounding it on all sides
but that of the garden. These trees actually seclude
the lawn as completely as if it were hidden by the
dense thickets of the woods. Not until one is on this
lawn can its size really be appreciated. Seats snuggled
under the great trees and a rustic house at a far side
give it points of interest. I noticed, also, that a few
large rocks had been left in their original places. The
surfaces of these were softened by the red honeysuckle

[9]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

vine, Lonicera sempervirens, with brilliant leaves nearly
evergreen. Following the outline of the trees of this
lawn, in irregular groups many flowering shrubs pecul-
iar to that part of the country may be seen. With
native vines they form a close, almost interwoven
growth that quite dispels the thought of man having
planted them.

Passing from the garden to this lawn, one feels
no regret for the brilliant flowers that are left behind
but rather a sense of peace, since the place is one of
infinite quiet, without the slightest disturbing element.

Such a bit of nature presents a different conception
of a lawn from an immense round space of green sur-
rounded by a circular driveway, leading up, probably,
to some imposing mansion. The one can become the
living ground, the home out-of-doors, while the other
is valuable for convenience and ornamentation. Each
serves its purpose, as do also the infinite number of
very small lawns about seaside homes, the chief beauty
of which is their stalwart greenness.

[10 }

PLATE III AN ATTRACTIVE SLOPING LAWN

CHAPTER II

THE SEASIDE GARDEN UNDER DIFFICULTIES

sea and the surrounding plant life seem to come

into peculiar harmony. Along the Mediter-
ranean flowers bloom, fruits ripen, and all the out-
pourings of nature take on their full strength of beauty.
In other places by the sea, however, there is a constant
struggle to keep its immense power from overriding
and ruining the garden. Yet, almost, before all else
there is the wind to regard as an ever-present force
both friendly and baneful.

Before a seaside garden is located, the ways of
the wind and as many of its vagaries as possible should
be taken under consideration. It should be observed
whether its average play about the proposed site of
the garden is rough or gentle, also whether there are
any natural or artificial breaks in its way. Along
certain stretches by the ocean, where young trees have
been planted, it is pitiful to see that repeated onslaughts
of the wind have bent their stems almost to semi-
circles, and that, from year to year, their growth is
so slight as to be barely perceptible. To plant these
trees in a place so dominated by the wind was to pit
them in an unequal struggle. Some shrub of twisted
and thick-growing habit, or an evergreen, having the

[11]

[ is true that there are many places in which the

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

power to resist and to form a break against the wind,
might better have been used.

Even in many very slightly exposed gardens near
the sea, the wind at times becomes so devastating that
those wise in its ways have omitted all palms, elephant’s
ears, Caladium esculentum, and other plants bearing
large leaves which, at short notice, can be battered and
torn into innumerable strips. Thus, in a few hours
of rough wind play, the thick leaves of a beautiful
magnolia that had withstood many gales were made
almost unrecognizable. The wind can work as sad
havoc with a seaside garden as can the salt spray,
another element the strength of which must be gaged
before a successful garden can be sustained.

To fight the wind there are evergreen shrubs that
form into dense walls; natural slopes and buildings
also play their part in staying its strongest attacks.
But the only way to save a garden from salt spray is
to place it absolutely out of the sea’s reach.

A few years ago, along the Connecticut side of the
Sound, there raged a storm of such fierceness as to have
few equals in the memories of the oldest inhabitants.
The water and the spray overleaped their natural
boundaries and entered gardens supposed to be well
out of their reach. For months afterward the withered,
blackened foliage of the shrubs and plants was a
melancholy sight, while many of the delicate flowers
had been killed. Fortunately, such a storm is not in
the regular order of summer weather, and need only
be remembered as illustrating the undesirability of
too great a familiarity between the sea and the garden.

[12]

GARDEN UNDER DIFFICULTIES

Besides the sea there is the sun to make one ponder
before locating the garden. Undoubtedly, the greater
number of plants are sun lovers and dependent on
its light and warmth for much of their beauty. Many
plants, even, that are classified as shade loving, and that
are found in their natural haunts in secluded, dimly
lighted places, take on a briskness of growth that
is fairly surprising, when planted so that they can
enjoy the sunshine. The lily of the valley will lift
its stalk of elfin-like flowers as well in a place visited
by the sun as when planted in the shade of trees as
conventionally prescribed. Near the sea, however,
where the sun lingers and burns on the sand, its heat
and light are often so intense that plants droop under
them. To defy the sun, therefore, by planting shade-
giving trees and shrubs, is a means necessary to over-
come this difficulty.

Still another obstacle is encountered by garden
builders who do not go to their country homes until
the first or the middle of June on account of their
cold, exposed positions. It is then late in the season
to sow many annuals, to reset perennials, and to do
other things that help make a pleasing garden.
Naturally, many annuals would grow and bloom if
planted this late, but they would reach their maturity
so near the day of frost that their beauty would be
short-lived. Cosmos, for instance, which has been
sown in some seashore gardens about the first of
June, has rewarded its sower by blooming just in
time to have its lovely heads nipped by Jack Frost,
and this in spite of its being one of the annuals

[13]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

that usually withstand the first bite of autumn
weather.

In order to overcome this difficulty the owners of
many gardens so situated often cast their cares on
the shoulders of a local gardener, who then in his
pride makes of them conventional beds and borders
with bedding plants. One recognizes his hand in the
large, circular flower beds holding cannas, plants of
variegated foliage, red geraniums, or, perhaps, helio-
trope, if it suits his fancy better. Petunias, most
irrepressible of annuals, and salvias are also of great
’ convenience to the gardener left to his own devices.
As late as mid-July, salvia can be lifted from the
pot where it has been placed in its seedling stage
and transplanted to the bed or border without
showing a sign of wilting, provided it is kept well
watered.

But to those who have become wise in garden
possibilities such stiff beds of mixed flowers have
completely lost their charm. While there are a few
places where they appear appropriate, there are many
others where there is no excuse for their existence.
Yet the majority of trained gardeners take inordinate
pride in bedding plants, beside which they seem to
regard hardy perennials as not only poor but impudent
relatives.

For the seaside home, nevertheless, where the
season opens late, a garden of hardy perennials should
prove satisfactory, with naturally such additions of
other plants as are adaptable to the general conditions
of the climate. The more work that can be done

[14]

PLATE IV AN ENCLOSED LAWN

GARDEN UNDER DIFFICULTIES

in the autumn at such places, the better will be the
result the following season.

Specialized gardens have also been made very
beautiful in some soils of seaside places that would
have been ill suited for growing a variety of plants.
Roses, unfolding in June, the time of many desires,
and irises, with their prolonged period of bloom, in
a number of instances have been treated so charm-
ingly as to make one almost forget the existence of
other flowers.

Builders of successful seaside gardens must, in
truth, put a curb on the wish for all sorts and varieties
of flowers. At the very outset of planting, a selection
should be made of the plants best adapted to the
pec idiar positions they are desired to hold permanently.
The old saw, “‘ Work well begun is half done,” especially
applies to all garden building.

To start a garden with plants whose natural
habitat is away from the sea can but result in sore
disappointment and the labor of replacing them
at the price of dearly bought experience. Even in
the most desirable situations, the intense heat of the
American summer, the usual summer drought, and the
brilliant, almost unfailing, light prevent the gardens
here from thriving as freely as they do under the
moister atmosphere of England. Many seeds brought
from there and planted in our gardens show unusual
brilliancy of color the first year, but quite lose their
superiority in the seeds they produce. To keep up
their high note of color the seeds must be imported
each year from the old country. Still, the atmosphere

[15]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

of many seaside places has a humid quality that causes
much plant life to flourish at its best. In many places
by the sea there are to be seen varieties of plants
attaining a richness and fulness of growth such as is
seldom noticed inland. On Long Island to-day there
are plants of no particular association with the sea that
have rivaled the proportions of exaggerated dreams.

To attempt garden building by the sea, without
placing this curb on the natural preference for certain
plants, is indeed a folly. The story has been told
of a northern woman, a seaside dweller, who, when
visiting the southland, became enraptured with the
Cherokee rose. In her mind’s eye she saw it climbing,
twining, and bursting out into a great luxuriance of
bloom about the walls of her own home. On her
return she made elaborate preparation for its planting.
This rose, however, is not hardy in the North — a fact
so well known that no one ventured to repeat it to
this energetic woman, whose apparent confidence in
the matter made it seem as if she had found some
unique method of making it withstand the cold. But
the trouble and the expense and all the thoughts of
beauty she had entertained amounted to nothing.
In the end she was content to plant the climbing roses
which had proved hardy in that locality and which were
also very beautiful. The experience, therefore, was not
futile; for had she not seen in the South the possibilities
of the Cherokee rose, she might never have become
interested in the northern hardy climbers, and thus
might have been without the pleasure that growing
them can give.

[16]

GARDEN UNDER DIFFICULTIES

There is, of course, a flora peculiar to the sea and
the sand. The sea cactus, Thyone briarcus, follows
the coast from Connecticut to Florida, growing Just
below low tide. There is the sea daffodil, sea bind-
weed, marsh rosemary, sea pea, and innumerable other
plants of the beaches and salt marshes that have
fear neither of salt spray nor of the sea itself. Such
plants as these, however, are not those that should
form a garden, wherein upright growth and brilliancy
are desired. A garden exclusively of sea weeds and
plants would be a curiosity; beautiful, perhaps, if
viewed under a magnifying glass, but not at all such
a one as the average summer resident desires.

To acknowledge the difficulties of a seaside garden
is, In a measure, to have overcome them. To locate
the garden in a spot sheltered from the fiercest blasts
of the wind, away from the salt spray, and where the
sun will not burn it too strongly, and especially to
discriminate in the selection of its plants, is to outline
the road to success.

[17]

CHAPTER III

THE TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

side the garden, that years must pass before

they attain their kingdom of majestic size and
beauty. Indeed, trees of average growth put forth
an annual amount which appears very slight when
viewed in the open with the great expanse of blue
above. To overcome this characteristic of slow growth
there is a tendency abroad to plant trees, and espe-
cially shrubs, very closely together, on the ground that
a foliage effect is desired, not for future generations,
but for the enjoyment of the present builder of the home
and garden. Before many years have passed, trees
thus planted begin to interfere with each other, and
their individual development is hindered. Many trees
of the dense woods and forest, when crowded closely
together, appear as tall, slender stems with crowns
but sparingly leaved; while, on the open lawn, the same
trees, planted singly, produce great, dome-shaped
crowns of stirring green. As arule, nurserymen favor
a close planting of trees and shrubs outside the garden;
and when their advice is followed blindly, it is usually
found that there must be a thinning out within a
comparatively short time. For the planting of shrubs
and trees at a small place in Greenwich on the Sound,

[18 ]

IE is difficult to realize, when planting trees out-

SUAIMOTH WO WOVId ONTREL V¥ A ALW Id

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

the nurseryman’s list was cut down one-third; and yet
in three years’ time the question of thinning out most
of the shrubs and few of the trees was imminent.

Naturally the character of a tree and the purpose
for which it is planted should determine, to a great
extent, how much or how little it should be crowded.
Too much space could hardly be given the American
elm, that its full beauty might mark a landscape,
while birches, although attractive as individual speci-
mens, form also charming pictures when planted fairly
close together.

In general, trees chosen for permanence on the
open lawn should be set from seventy-five to a hundred
feet apart, and although this may produce at first a
somewhat barren effect, it can always be overcome
by shrubbery massed in particular places, and by the
use of dwarf varieties of trees. The development of
the large trees is then not hindered; and the melan-
choly work of uprooting them, made necessary by over-
crowding, is avoided.

Unless for special reasons, the hardwood, deep-
rooting trees are to be preferred for lawn planting,
since those with surface roots are likely to cause the
grass to die out, leaving bare spots of earth.

Trees should not be planted about a home only
for their beauty, but also to give shade and to produce
a cool, comfortable effect. It is by their assistance
that many of the landscape pictures have been made
at Newport and other places where an unusual amount
of thought has been expended on the home grounds.
The trees mentioned in this chapter are neither great

[19]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

rarities nor in any way extraordinary, but invariably
those that have proved worthy of planting outside
the seaside garden. Naturally not all American trees
do well in proximity to the water, but there are still
a sufficient number that thrive near it to give abundant
shade and variety.

The white willow, Salix alba, with silvery gray
foliage, and the weeping willows, S. Babylonica, of
golden leaves in early spring and green throughout
the summer, are both charming trees about seaside
homes, since they and the water are long-time friends.
By the side of small inlets from the sea, in which their
reflections can be seen, they give a note of coloring
peculiarly their own. They are among the first trees
to respond to the caressing touch of spring and retain
throughout the summer a look of cool freshness.
In the autumn, when their gray-green tones contrast
with the more brilliant, ruddy hues of other foliage,
they appear to take on a solemnity of bearing, as
if they, alone, were to be left to meet the mist from
the sea, and the oncoming winter. Even through
the coldest weather their bark remains bright and
pretty.

Neither the white nor the weeping willow is indig-
enous to this country. Still, after their introduction,
at the time of various settlements, they shortly began
to grow so lustily as to appear like natives of the
region. Plate vii., the illustration of white willows,
shows trees averaging a circumference of nine and a
half feet, at a distance of five feet from the ground.
They were planted in April 1801, at Salem, Massa-

[20]

ABOUT THE HOUSE

TRIES

Zi
oe

PLATE VI

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

chusetts, very near the water, which seems conducive
to rapidity of growth and longevity.

To those who have a fondness for it, the weeping
willow is an indispensable tree when a selection is
made for planting outside the garden. At one of the
large places in a town by the Sound, it has been
employed quite to the exclusion of other trees. Not
fewer than a hundred weeping willows, possibly fifteen
feet high, have been planted there in various groups
and groves; and although trees of this size have not
the majesty of those that are old and time-tried, they
are exquisitely graceful, and cast over the landscape
something of the charm of their mist-tinted foliage.
The surrounding country has been transformed by
them into a picture worthy the brush of Corot.

The weeping willow, S. aurea pendula, is invariably
remarkable for its beautiful golden bark.

Sweet gum trees, Liquidambar styraciflua, do well
in low, marshy ground and on lawns closely border-
ing the seashore. With their neat, star-shaped foliage
they stand out clearly against their background, pro-
claiming themselves with distinct elegance. These
trees are quite in harmony with places where the
planting is formal and stately. In the autumn they
take on an added note of brilliancy, their foliage turn-
ing to variegated shades of bright red and yellow, and
although always strikingly ornamental trees, it is at
this time, particularly, that they appear most beautiful.
The sweet gums grow best when planted in the spring.

The Kentucky coffee tree, Gymnocladus dioica,
thrives near the sea almost without fail. It grows

[21]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

fairly large, and although its sweet-scented June
flowers of greenish white are not particularly beautiful
or conspicuous, the remarkably large pods that follow
them make the tree at once known and remembered.
The foliage, which is acacia-like in outline, is set,
moreover, in such a way as to allow air and light to
slip through it freely, while its great abundance forms
a screen from the sun. The tree is regarded as giving
the most agreeable shade.

The honey locust, Gleditschia triancanthos, is in
somewhat the same class with the Kentucky coffee
tree, since its habit of growth is also drooping and
picturesque, and its aspect light and graceful because
of the number of its long, compound leaves. It is
extensively used for hedges (page 80), while, perhaps,
the most disagreeable thing that can be said of it is
that it waits until late in the spring before unfolding
its leaves.

The plane tree, buttonball, or the sycamore as it
is more generally and erroneously called, Platanus
orientalis, is not unlike the American buttonwood,
although in general a more satisfactory tree. The
peculiarity of its mottled bark makes it a well-known
figure; and since it is very hardy and grows rapidly
it has become something of a favorite. It is, however,
a gaunt individual, with foliage ruggedly formed and
quite lacking the elegance which marks that of the
sweet gum. This tree is almost the last of all to show
its leaves in the spring and the first to drop them in
the autumn. A few years ago, when the season was

unusually backward in early June, the plane trees of
[ 22

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

Long Island appeared to be either dead or dying,
but later they responded to the warm weather and put
forth their usual show of life. Still, a salient objection
to them is that they continually drop their dead leaves.
To keep a walk or an avenue near them clean requires
daily attention. Many experts, nevertheless, include
them among the best of our hardy shade trees.

At the botanical garden in Algiers, there is an
avenue flanked by plane trees which have attained such
astonishing proportions that they dwarf everything
else within the garden, raising themselves toward the
sky like mute specters. There they are in truth at
home, while in America they are foreigners to the soil
and their growth in comparison is as that of pygmies
to giants.

Among the poplars, the Carolina poplar, Populus
deltoides, has been used extensively as a shade tree
along our coasts. Unfortunately, like most of its
relatives, it falls under the bane of being short-lived,
and also has the sad habit of dropping its leaves.
But it is a tree of more rapid growth than any other
of the northeastern states, which in a measure makes
up for its other defects. Very often this characteristic
is underestimated, and the trees, in consequence, are
set much too closely together.

The member of the ash family that is often seen
where the sea is not far distant is the green ash, Fraxinus
lanceolata. It is especially adapted to lawn planting,
as it develops a beautiful crown of delicately formed,
brilliantly green leaves, which change their color but
little in acknowledgment of the autumn. To plant

[ 23 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

a green ash in a place where an ornamental tree is
desired is to plant one for permanence, so seldom does
it die out if given an average chance to live. This
particular ash is an intense lover of sunlight.

The great family of oaks must not be forgotten when
trees are planted outside the garden; for there are no
others among the deciduous trees that have a person-
ality of such force and endurance. Of late years the
oaks have, to some extent, lost their stigma of being
slow of growth, and are now thought, when planted
in favorable situations, to make average strides toward
height and greatness.

The willow oak would scarcely be recognized as
a member of the genus by one unacquainted with its
narrow, willow-like leaves. Near the sea it has great
endurance, often becoming noticeably handsome,
though it never attains the great size of some of its
relatives. In midsummer it is especially attractive,
showing then the light gray-green of its foliage, which
it also retains until very late in the year.

The swamp white oak, like others of the group of
chestnut oaks, has interesting foliage and is not par-
ticular as to whether it is planted in wet or in dry
soil. Sometimes it proves an excellent tree for a
background, or to use in exposed places where it is
desirable to break the sky line.

The red oak is one of the sturdiest trees of spreading
form, and a rapid grower, living to a great age besides.
Its leaves are not so delicately formed or so beautiful
as those of the scarlet oak, but they are well shaped
and turn to a deep, rich red in the late season.

[24]

SSVIN SINATWS “SMOTTLM OLLIAAL TA GALVTd

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

The oak of oaks for seashore planting is the pin
oak, Quercus palustris, which grows rapidly, lives
long, and throughout its day presents a personality
of much beauty. It can always be recognized by its
pyramidal form, the pendulous droop of its branches,
and its comparatively small leaves with projecting
ribs as sharp as pins, which are responsible for its
common name. Vividly green throughout the summer,
the glory of many an autumn landscape is in part
owing to the pin oak, which then becomes almost a
solid mass of clear, bright red. Even until December,
it is not unusual to see the tree waving some of its
ruddy leaves. In marshy places heavy with moisture,
it sometimes attains its maximum proportions, as is
also true of it when planted in drying ground away from
the sea. Perhaps from the pin oak was derived the
expression, “hardy as an oak.”

Among the birches and the beeches, there are the
weeping forms that are almost without rivals for
ornamental lawn planting. The weeping beech espe-
cially, though no very generally seen, invariably
compels admiration by its grace and the brightness
of its summer foliage. Against a winter landscape,
its curious framework is none the less inspiring. It
is then a host in itself and undoubtedly merits a place
on the lawn, perhaps at some distance, from the other
trees outside the garden.

Another weeping tree used increasingly for lawn
planting is Weir’s cut-leaved maple. At best it reaches
a height of thirty-five or forty feet and has the lure
of finely cut, beautiful foliage. Like most of the

[ 25 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

maples, it is remarkable for the speed with which it
grows.

There is a quality about weeping trees that places
them much in harmony with the sea. They seem to
have realized its unconquered power and to have laid
down their arms, contenting themselves with growing
in a way that acts as a protection against its fury.
Weeping trees also seem more suitable to plant in
hollows or slight declivities than on rising ground.
They then sink into their environment and help its
completeness, while it seems as if an elevation were
better carried out and accentuated by upright, pyra-
midal trees. Two minds, however, do not always
work identically in the planting of trees outside the
garden. It is as largely a matter of taste as is the
arrangement of the interior of the home. A solitary
weeping willow set on the top of a steep slope is an
offense to the eye of one, while to that of another it
but holds a proper position of prominence.

In fact, no general directions can be given concerning
which tree is best to plant here and which one is best
to plant there, because each home ground is governed
by its own position. But whether the place be very
near to or at a considerable distance from the sea,
in either case a strong effort should be made to plant
trees on and about the lawn, that the house may be
surrounded with an atmosphere of shade and comfort.

I shall never forget the first impression of a sea-
shore place I was once asked to visit in the enchanting
month of June. The house, built like a castle, sat at
the top of an elevation which rose abruptly from the

[ 26 ]

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

side of the sea. It had the sky as a background and
a foreground of barren earth. There was no lawn
worthy the name; no garden. Dame Nature shunned
the place as completely as if it were plague-stricken.
The driveway was outlined with electric lights which
cropped up as freely as mushrooms. But more than
all else about the place, I resented the deception of
its name. It was called “Everglade”!

The family who built it dwelt there but a few
weeks during the summer and then merely for the
purpose of enjoying the sea. Its members were not
horticulturally inclined, caring neither for oak nor
ash. One day a relative came to visit this place and
spoke openly about the barrenness of palaces and boats
without the soothing influences of nature. For a time
he was looked upon as a mild sort of lunatic, but
happily, in the end, his influence told, and “Everglade”’
was placed for embellishment in the hands of an
expert landscape gardener. Since then I have heard
that it is transformed as if by a fairy’s wand,
and that one member of the family’s interest in the
garden has become so intense that she forsakes every
other pastime to spend her days there among the
flowers.

On lawns by the seashore that afford their trees
some protection, I have seen Asiatic magnolias fairly
covered with blooms in the early days of spring.
They have not the hardiness of most trees, especially
when young; nor can they endure fierce winds that
tear their leaves to pieces. Still, their beauty is so
pronounced — their early bloom so appealing — that

[27]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

one is tempted to give them an opportunity to grow
wherever they are likely to thrive.

Magnolia stellata, a Japanese variety, leads the
others in point of early flowering. It is a dwarfish,
shrublike tree that unfolds its myriads of pink buds
into star-shaped white flowers casting forth a delicate
fragrance. A fairer sight is seldom seen. But this
little Japanese is neither so well known nor so much be-
loved as the large, noble Chinese magnolia, conspicua.
When in early spring it is covered with its large, pure
white blossoms, it appears to vanquish all shrubs and
even to pale the thought of other flowers. Like the
stellata, the flowers open before the leaves, a charac-
teristic of some plants that makes them particularly
lovable. It seems as if they wish to do their best at
once; as if the slow process of getting rid of winter
has become irksome to them. Thus they send out
quickly the best that they have, regardless of the
chance that a late frost or even a fall of snow may
completely destroy their efforts.

I have seen Chinese magnolias on Long Island
of remarkable size and wondrous beauty; and I have
also seen them in a town by the Sound during the time
of their bloom, making the dooryard of a modest
cottage the most enchanting spot in the place. New
palatial houses were forgotten; lawns planted by
experts were overlooked, when these magnolias burst
open their buds beside the broken gateway. How,
when, and by whom they were planted are facts so
old as to have outlived the memory of the present
occupant of the cottage. In such a situation, — the

[ 28 ]

VAoVM GH UVAN SMVO 1A GLWTd

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

roadway before them, the cottage behind, and the
Sound at some distance farther back,— they have a
protection from the elements that has made them live
long. To plant such trees, however, in face of high
gales or very near the water would be to insure their
death.

M. soulangeana, also a well-known Asiatic variety,
is more hardy than the conspicua and therefore a
better tree to plant in places where the climate is
severe.

Sometimes I have heard people say that they would
not plant magnolias outside their seaside gardens
because these trees could not live under such condi-
tions. Yet, given the chance, the probability was
strong that they not only would have lived, but would
have done well.

The word magnolia carries the mind of the north-
erner southward, to where the native magnolias hold °
sway.

Never can they be seen in such perfection in the
northlands. Still, there are varieties of even these
native magnolias, acuminata, glauca, and tripetala,
which can be successfully grown as ornamental trees.
The great leaved, tropical looking macrophylla has
been known to live and to bloom in a part of the North
where the thermometer falls to ten degrees below
zero. In places where it is possible for them to live,
their great beauty makes a strong claim for their
encouragement, and when the planting ground is so
situated as to put their hardiness to too great a test,
they can only be discarded with intense regret.

[ 29 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Besides the regular deciduous trees for lawn plant-
ing, there are many dwarf varieties, and others grown
as standards, that serve to beautify the grounds of
seashore places.

The Camperdown elm, with its graceful habit of
sending out its branches almost horizontally and then
downward until they nearly touch the ground, has
formed a summer house within which many children
have played or hidden in high glee. For a grafted
tree it is remarkably sturdy.

Tea’s weeping mulberry droops to the ground,
and thus forms a shady roof more complete than that
of a green parasol. Its heart-shaped foliage gives it
an individual look, and although the direction of its
growth has been so changed by the art of man,
it nevertheless bears and ripens its mulberries at the
scheduled time. Not two hundred feet away from
the Sound, I have noticed two of these trees making
good growth and withstanding the severest winters
imaginable. In fact, a pair of chipmunks observed
them as well as I. In earliest spring, almost with
the snowdrops, they made their appearance about the
trees, coming as if from nowhere. They were chased
by dogs and by cats, and fired at by children; but
in every case, their ark of safety was the shelter of
the mulberry trees, from the branches of which they
loudly ridiculed their pursuers. But in the fruiting
time their pleasure was keenest. Then most pertly
they sat on the drooping boughs, eating their full of
mulberries day after day.

Of marked beauty is the Japanese weeping cherry,

[ 30 ]

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

one of the best of the small, ornamental trees. Its
_ flowers, of a delicate, rose color, open before the leaves
and fairly cover the slender branches, drooping almost
to the ground. By its early and fascinating bloom the
tree is of great advantage to a lawn, since it makes
everything about appear gay and beautiful. Indeed,
the Japanese have contributed largely to the number
of flowering trees, and trees of brilliant foliage, that
are now used to serve many definite and special pur-
poses outside the garden.

It is to be regretted that some of the most important
trees do not like the scent and the nearness of the sea.
The swamp and the silver maples, the tulip tree, and
many others of unusual beauty are not identified with
seashore planting. At a distance inland, however,
they can be used with the average amount of success.
But if the lordly American maples will not show them-
selves in perfection along our coasts, their little rela-
tives from Japan, which are not expected to grow
tall and stately, serve somewhat as a consolation for
their loss.

Although, in truth, the Japanese colored maples
are trees, they are often so dwarfed in size that they
find a place among shrubbery, to which they give
color and accent. Their appropriateness for small
spaces cannot be overestimated, since they seldom
grow sufficiently large to produce a crowded effect.
There are a large number of these wonderful, dwarf
trees, always resplendent with color, and yet which
change and deepen in hue as the season advances.
There are some of blood red; others of golden yellow

[31]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

with slight markings of green; and still others of
green, veined with silver and margined all about
with rose color. In the outline and texture of their
leaves, these maples also show great variety, some
being palm-shaped, others like stars, while others
are fernlike or cut and lobed in fantastic fashions.

Indeed, so many of these little trees are now known
to be hardy in this country that the purchaser has
ample scope to please his fancy when choosing them
for planting outside the garden. The golden yellow
leaves, slightly marked with green, of Acer Japonicum
aureum make it of value in places where a cheerful
color is desired. A. polymorphum atropurpureum is
always interesting from its habit of changing its
blood-red leaves of spring to purplish red during the
summer, and then to bright crimson for the autumn.
A. polymorphum septemlobum, with its deeply cut,
glossy, green leaves, has a distinct purpose when planted
as a contrast to the reds of the atropurpureum.

Through the employment of Japanese maples,
the lawn can be provided with charming masses of
color. In June, when the genus of maples is at its
best, their foliage gleams brightly, as yet undimmed
by dust or the intense heat of summer. In the autumn
again, the days of the reds and the gold, they cast off
the little laxity they have shown during the summer
and shine most radiantly.

Intense heat occasionally harms these fascinating
dwarf trees, and an exposed position in winter will
cause them to suffer from cold. Nevertheless, I have
known them to live lustily from year to year in a

[ 32]

PLATE IX MAGNOLIA STELLATA

TREES OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

place where only a wide spreading lawn and a break-
water separated them from the Sound.

Lately, it has been somewhat of a fad to plant
many varieties of these maples together or in groups
where they are valuable for striking foliage effects.
They are much seen also in proximity to dwarf conifer
trees, the usefulness and beauty of which are more
keenly appreciated each year. Very often the two
are used to bring the house and the surrounding
grounds together.

The ailanthus, tree of Heaven, Ailanthus glandulosa,
although seen in perfection in many dry, inland places,
forms notable groups very near the water at many
places on Long Island and by the Sound. It is of
an imposing presence, with long, wandlike leaves of
many leaflets, and invariably attracts attention when
its great bunches of samaras are ripening. The odor
from the staminate trees when in bloom is rather
generally thought to be offensive. By keeping the
main stem of the ailanthus cut down, abundant suckers
arise from the base, which then form an effect of waving
shrubbery as graceful as that of bamboo. In this
way, this tree is useful for screening objectionable
things.

Of late the catalpa, grown as a standard, Catalpa
Bungei, has become an immensely popular, formal
tree outside the garden. At a distance of possibly
an eighth of a mile from the sea, I know one quaint
yet precise garden, the lines of whose outer bound-
aries are marked by these trees. There they seem
to thrive as well as they do inland, showing globe-

[ 33 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

shaped heads of symmetrical beauty and large green
leaves that remain fresh looking until late in the
season.

There are many trees besides those mentioned
in this limited space that have endured for years
outside the seaside garden. In the selection of them
much depends on the distance of the planting ground
from the sea, and the knowledge of whether they are
to have artificial protection from its mad moods, or
whether they are to act as the protectors of more delicate
forms of growth. The question of position can never
be overlooked when trees are to serve as the out-
guards of the seaside home and garden.

About country homes where the ground is limited
to a small area, trees should be planted, if at all, with
great discretion. In the majority of such cases, it is
wiser to treat the lawn and the surrounding ground
with evergreen and deciduous shrubs, rapid in their
growth and often wonderful in their beauty One
or a few trees may then be added to give emphasis
to certain points, and to foster a variety of skyline;
but many large trees on a small plot of ground inva-
riably produce the impression of overcrowding and
contraction.

»

[34]

CHAPTER IV

EVERGREEN TREES

f | 0 complete the planting of trees outside the
garden and not to give a place to those that
are evergreen would show little feeling for

the eternal and unchanging element of nature, for
these trees have not only distinct and varied beauty,
but great stability. After those that are deciduous
have dropped their leaves, they still hold their marvel-
ous green. In fact, without the evergreens this color
would be almost lost to the out-of-door world for several
months in the year. The grass throughout the winter
is pale and dead looking, the framework of the decidu-
ous trees appears gray against a cold sky, and the leaves
of plants have gone. It is then that the evergreens
give a hopeful message, recalling the verdure of summer
and encouraging the thought that it but waits its time
to return.

The planting of evergreens should be especially
considered by those who live near the sea, since there
the winters often show a severity that is disconcerting
to the most sanguine temperaments. Snow, ice, and
sleet are picturesque companions for a time, but most
people gladly see them take their departure. Evergreen
trees, more than any others, have been chosen to com-
bat the wind by forming breaks against its power.

[ 35 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

In the early days of this country, when improve-
ments in heating facilities had not yet been begun,
wind-breaks were planted near dwellings purely for
warmth and protection. They should still be used
for this purpose near the sea to-day, especially since
it is known that they also have esthetic value. To
form a wind-break for the protection of a house or
a garden requires much less ground space than is
generally supposed.

The positions that evergreens are to hold should
be decided, if possible, with more care than is given
to deciduous trees. In a few years after their establish-
ment, many of them grow very tall. Through inju-
dicious setting, I have seen them completely mar a
distant view; while the same trees differently placed
would have made an appeal like long-tried constant
companions.

The late summer or early autumn is the best
time to plant evergreens. The ground then is warm,
and although the spring growth of the trees is over,
the circulation of the sap and the activity of the roots
are in admirable condition to sustain them. Naturally,
after planting, they should be kept abundantly moist.

The spruces are among the most useful as well
as the most ornamental of evergreens. They can be
grown as low hedges (page 80) or as high wind-breaks,
and as individual specimens they develop symmetri-
cally, showing much beauty.

The native white spruce, Picea alba, is one of the
most attractive evergreens, although neither so well
known nor so generally planted as the Norway spruce,

[ 36 ]

HO ON SHLOQONWSLYOd “SHOOAUdS NMOWD TOLL X WLW 1d

EVERGREEN TREES

P. excelsa. The latter tree has made a strong appeal
to planters for a long time. It is easily recognized
by its large, handsome cones. The native tree, how-
ever, while of less rapid growth than the one from
Norway, lives longer, is more hardy, and not so subject
to injury. The two appear well when planted together.

The golden Norway spruce, P. aurea, is, as its
name indicates, a variety of the better known tree.
It is desirable in ornamental planting, because of the
clear, golden tints of its foliage.

The weeping Norway spruce, P. excelsa inverta,
appears an eccentric tree when so placed that the full
droop of its boughs is displayed. Unfortunately, it is
of very slow growth.

One of the most bold appearing, compact, and hardy
of the family is the oriental spruce, P. orientalis, the
nature of which is to grow tall and large. It is of
particular worth in producing attractive winter effects.

To produce color in evergreens seems, at present,
to be the chief desire of many planters, and no better
example of diversity of tone can be found than the
Colorado blue spruce, P. pungens. The foliage of
this tree is indeed much more blue than green, espe-
cially through the month of June. This blue, how-
ever, is the kind that suggests green underneath,
reminding one of the bloom over a purple grape.
The blue spruce, in fact, is not only much used for
contrast effects among other evergreens, but is in itself
such a beautiful, symmetrical tree that to have it about
the home is now a recognized luxury. It is typically
an evergreen for formal, highly cultivated effects.

[37]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

A number of years ago a friend, who had spent
much of his leisure in studying evergreens and rare
shrubs, planted at his country place about twenty-
five blue spruces from the Rocky Mountains. At
that time such trees were little seen among the orna-
mental planting of the northeastern states. Gradually,
however, they made their way into fashion. Last
summer a nurseryman passing through my friend’s
place stopped to make him an offer for his blue spruces.
It was in four figures, since the trees were then large
and well developed. My friend refused the offer, but
could not help feeling gratified in discovering that his
investment in blue spruces had advanced at a rate
equal to that of some stocks and bonds.

Another beautiful member of this family, a silver
and gold variety of the white spruce, is called “glory of
spruces.” P. Engelmanni is very handsome, a Rocky
Mountain species not altogether unlike the blue spruce.

The hemlock spruce, Tsuga Canadensis, a tree of
renowned loveliness, presents itself particularly for
planting in groups or through semi-wild woodlands,
inasmuch as it is one of the few evergreens that do
well in shade, often reaching there its finest develop-
ment. When the home ground is sufficiently large,
it can have no greater attraction than a grove of these
trees. At a short distance inland from the Sound are
two estates that, to my knowledge, were primarily
purchased for their natural hemlock groves. In June,
when the young growth is on the trees, these groves,
now well ordered, appear in verity to harbor the
sweetest woodland spirits.

[ 38 ]

EVERGREEN TREES

Sargent’s pendulous hemlock, a variety of T. Cana-
densis, is a tree of much unique attraction; while one
from Japan, T’. Sieboldit, is rare and very pleasing.

Although there is a beauty and delicacy of foliage
about the pines which transcends that of the spruces,
they are, in general, more difficult to transplant and
more uncertain about standing the climate of many
seaside places.

The king of the family is undoubtedly the American
white pine, Pinus Strobus. When well established
on a lawn, free from crowding, and developed to its
full, distinctive outline, there is hardly another tree,
unless it be the white oak, that can vie with it in
majesty of bearing. Of it there are several varieties,
both dwarf and bushy, that are considerably used as
ornamental specimens.

P. excelsa, generally known as the Bhotans pine,
bears some resemblance to the native white species,
although its leaves are longer, very graceful, and
delicately green in color. When winter claims the
landscape, there is no more attractive pine. It is
also desirable because of the rapidity of its growth.

For heavy planting, by the seashore, the Austrian
pine, P. Austriaca, is a tree not only of strong, rapid
growth, but of bold, refreshing appearance. On
entering one of the large estates of Long Island, in
which the house comes as a surprise at the end of a
long driveway, one sees that this pine has been used
extensively to plant the ground lying near the road.
The impression after passing through the gates is
that of entering a forest of pine, with a breath as

[ 39 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

refreshing as the pine lands of New Jersey. Of the
hundreds of Austrian pines here planted, not one has
died or shown signs of serious weakness.

The Scotch pine, P. sylvestris, with its silvery
foliage, is a favorite for places where winds are high and
unmerciful, as it makes a satisfactory break against
their force.

Almost all of the rare dwarf pines are charming
as foreground trees when taller species, massed, per-
chance, with spruces, are used in the background.

The dwarf mountain or Mugho pine, P. mughus, is
one of the most noticeable among those of low growth.
It spreads into shapely, compact masses, covering the
bare earth in winter with a wealth of vigorous green.

In all planting of pines, whether large or dwarf,
the shape of the tree as well as its peculiar coloring
should have full emphasis, and especially in places
where it is used for winter consolation.

There is a noble beauty about the silver fir trees
not often gainsaid. They have, indeed, great charm
against a winter landscape and also when covered
with their young growth. But they are trees that
require care and judicious pruning to be seen at their
best. It is, moreover, advisable to plant only those
that have had their roots properly developed in a
nursery by pruning and frequent transplanting, for
these trees do not take to the soil with the avidity
of some evergreens, and unless they can be seen in
the full expression of their stately outlines, it is better
to dispense with them altogether. An_ irregularly
developed fir presents a melancholy picture.

[ 40 ]

PLATE XI SPRUCES THAT PLANT OUT A BUILDING

EVERGREEN TREES

Nordmann’s fir, with its abundance of shimmering
silvery leaves, has, when well grown, true grandeur
of bearing. It is one of the most hardy of firs, but
unfortunately slow in its growth.

Abies concolor, the Colorado silver fir, is another
species well known and desirable. <A. pectinata pen-
dula is charming to introduce among the evergreens
planted among rocks. It is so unique in habit and so
suggestive of a column of green that it should invariably
be given a place where it can be seen to advantage.

The arbor vite, especially the American, Thuja
occidentalis, of which there are a number of forms, is
particularly valuable near the sea to form wind-breaks
and hedges (page 80). These trees are readily trans-
planted, are not fastidious about the soil they occupy,
and in many ways are most useful. Often they are
employed within the garden for unique formal effects,
being then cut into fantastic shapes.

Some forms take naturally a pyramidal outline;
others are dwarfish and bushy; others quite rounded.
Peabody’s golden arbor vite produces foliage of bril-
liant gold, and is altogether a desirable tree; while the
Siberian variety, owing to the unusually dark green
tones of its foliage, is the more pleasing tree during
winter.

Such trees as the Mt. Atlas cedar, resembling the
blue spruce in the color of its leaves, and the time-
tried cedars of Lebanon are distinctive marks of some
of the oldest estates on Long Island. Even after
gardens have perished and generations of non-flower
lovers have succeeded those who sowed and planted,

[41]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

these trees still breathe their faint aroma, telling us
a story of a splendor long past.

The hardiness of the red cedar, Juniperus Vir-
giniana, combined with its ability to accommodate
itself to almost every condition of soil, has been influ-
ential in its wide distribution as well as in its selection
for much landscape work. In its tall, slim outline
it suggests the cypresses of Europe. Its forms, how-
ever, are varied, since it occurs as a low bush or again
as a tree possibly a hundred feet high. It is very
satisfactory to introduce among rockwork.

The low, trailing forms of Juniperus, such as
J. prostrata and J. Sabina prostrata, are evergreens
that should be included in the rock garden that it
may not be dreary in the days of snow and ice, and also
to hide rocks of too great prominence. These junipers,
moreover, have a use on sloping ground where it is
difficult to keep the grass from drying out under the
intense sun of midsummer.

There is invariably a fresh look about the low-
growing junipers which, with their evergreenness and
the beauty of their piquant blue fruit, makes them of
value at many places near the sea. J. communis
aurea is a variety known as Doughla’s golden juniper,
one most lovely in June when the gold-tinted young
growth is projected from every point and angle.
J. Virginiana glauca is one of the bluest tinted of the
family, extremely attractive in early summer, and one
of the desirable evergreens for specimen planting.

Of late years the Japanese cedars, Retinosporas,
have become the fashion for landscape work, owing

[42]

EVERGREEN TREES

to the many colors in which they occur and the light,
feathery quality of their foliage. This beauty of
foliage is particularly noticeable in winter, when the
more common evergreens often look dull and weather-
beaten. Some of the golden varieties of retinospora
show, then, a contrast to the prevailing tones of the
landscape as cheery and vivid as that of the yellow
bells with the awakening browns and greens of early
spring. In general, they are perfectly hardy, doing
well at short distances from the sea. They are not
adverse to being sheared, and through this means can
be advantageously used as hedge plants or made to
develop into fine, bushy specimens.

Many retinosporas are by nature very dwarfish,
never exceeding two or three feet in height. Reti-
nospora obtusa var. nana is used by the Japanese as
dwarf evergreens, prominent features of their miniature
gardens. The varieties of them now well established
in this country are very numerous. For formal work
they have become almost indispensable.

At a country place in Connecticut, where the lawn
slopes down to the water, the planting immediately
about the house is confined exclusively to collections
of retinosporas and Japanese maples. Scarcely a more
bleak or exposed place can be imagined than this
very spot in winter; yet these Japanese trees have
thriven remarkably, showing no damage from their
nearness to the sea. The color effect of this plantation
of rare trees is suggestive of the American autumn at
its most vivid stage of gold and crimson.

The English yew, Tarus baccata, is most pleasing

[ 43 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

in the variety aurea, since in early summer its wonder-
fully bright golden growth makes it one of the most
noticeable of all evergreens.

To comment on the appearance of evergreens in
summer seems at variance with the fixed idea that
they should be planted for winter greenness, or for
beauty at a time when deciduous plants are bare of
leaf. This tree illustrates, however, what is true
of various other species, that June is their high day
of beauty, and that as winter comes on they lose their
brilliancy, becoming dull and brownish in tone. Before
planting evergreens, T. baccata especially, one should
consider whether the tree is desired for early summer
or for winter effect. For the former purpose baccata
is exquisitely lovely; for the latter it cannot hold its
own with the majority of other evergreens.

This new growth which comes on evergreen trees
in early summer is one of the enchanting sights of
nature, even in her month of roses. The color is
so ethereal, it so lights up the somberness of the trees,
that it appears in truth like a child leading a gray-
haired man.

Numbers of Norway spruces in June planted among
maples afford a sight not soon forgotten.

Evergreen trees are one of nature’s means of securing
contrasts. Against the horizon, they appear as restful
and as distinct as statues in a drawing-room, for it
is only when putting forth their new growth that there
is the apparent energy about them so noticeable in
connection with deciduous trees. No landscape can
be truly beautiful without them; few gardens are

[ 44]

SSVIN CLASSVHOO ‘MOLVA CELL UVAN SANId TIX ChLW Tel

EVERGREEN TREES

complete unless the smaller ones are used for con-
trasts. When winter descends in all its whiteness,
they hold out firm, strong arms to support its snow
and to make pictures in the ice storms that make us

think of them as the mysterious dwellings of Jack
Frost.

CHAPTER V

BROAD-LEAVED EVERGREEN SHRUBS

HE selection of evergreens for cultivation with-
out and within the garden need not end
with the conifer specimens. There are still

the broad-leaved evergreen shrubs to claim attention;
those that appear more like deciduous plants than
conifers, and yet which deservedly are termed ever-
greens on account of their ability to hold their bright,
lustrous leaves over the winter.

In truth, a seashore garden gauges the depth of
melancholy during the winter. The near-lying sea is
then dominated by fierce and wild moods; its motion
never abates; the salt spray carries death in its wake.
Were it not for the evergreens, Nature herself would
seem to have fled from the garden. Steadfastly then,
they raise themselves above the frozen earth; unchanged
in color they face the strongest gales.

Among broad-leaved evergreens the rhododendrons
stand out prominently. They are powerful shrubs,
and in their season of bloom show flowers as delicately
tinted as a rose. In small gardens they hold a distinct
place, and also in massive planting about the lawn,
and in various places chosen for naturalistic treatment.
Few gardens can afford to do without them, since
they give not only beauty at the time when flowers

[ 46 ]

PLATE XII1 CLIPPED EVERGREENS IN A FORMAL GARDEN

BROAD-LEAVED SHRUBS

are expected, but deck their surroundings in green
through twelve months of the year.

Rhododendrons delight in shade, in a moist atmos-
phere, and in a cool, deep bed richly made. They
will generally thrive a short distance back from the
sea.

Any one who has seen the rhododendrons as they
transform the Appalachian Mountains into riven
clouds of alluring color, stretching far and reaching
high, must hold an affection for the native species
Rhododendron maximum and R. Catawbiense, and must
wish to see them in the home garden. The Cataw-
biense blossoms first, and a month later when its flowers
are faded, as are those also of the hybrids, the mazi-
mum or beautiful rose bay unfolds. To keep this
fact in mind when planting is of assistance in prolong-
ing the rhododendron bloom of the garden.

There are shrubs easier to transplant and un-
doubtedly of hardier nature than the rhododendrons.
Occasionally they winter-kill or show damage to their
foliage if the winter sun shines upon it too brightly.
In the lee of trees, amidst the sturdy growth walling
a garden, or in the shade cast by buildings, there can
usually be found a place to make their bed, one where
they will live satisfactorily year after year.

The English hybrid rhododendrons include charm-
ing varieties, and are regarded by many as the hardiest
and best sorts to plant, in spite of the increasing popu-
larity of the native species.

At seaside places, the beauty of rhododendrons
appears to increase fourfold. There is a brave, brilliant

[47]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

look about their flowers which makes them fit mates
for the sea, and in winter they greatly modify its
gloom. Even though comparatively few owners of
seaside gardens visit them during the winter, it must
be a consolation to know that these green shrubs
are there making homes, perchance, for improvident
birds.

Azaleas, which seem the natural companions of
rhododendrons from the contrasting piquancy of
their look, lose their leaves, for the most part, with
the first touch of frost. There is one, however, — the
little Azalea amena, — which is as strictly evergreen
as the most dignified conifer. It is used as an edging
plant about beds of rhododendrons, and in fact
appears well wherever a low, brilliant evergreen is
desired. In June it unfolds masses of claret-colored
flowers which act as deep shadows when interspersed
with blooms more soft and delicate in tone.

The laurels should find a place in every seaside
garden, or about the lawn where a shady nook can hide
them from too intense a sun. Under rhododendrons
they serve as well as azaleas to grade the planting
down to the earth. The native laurel, Kalmia lati-
folia, with its curiously formed, daintily colored flowers,
is invariably attractive, perhaps particularly so where
natural effects are desired. Sometimes it evokes the
complaint that after a year or two of garden life, or
a highly civilized existence near a lawn, its desire to
bloom seems to lessen and it has to be replaced. Never-
theless I have seen the native laurel in a seaside garden,
well protected by a friendly dwelling, live on indefinitely,

[ 48 ]

BROAD-LEAVED SHRUBS

producing its blossoms apparently in greater numbers
each season.

In the woods by the great South Bay, the little
laurel, Lambkill, K. angustifolia, can also be seen
thriving amazingly and sending out its deeply colored
flowers in numbers sufficient to brighten their whole
surroundings. Shade and a rich, loamy bed fertilized
with fallen leaves is the gift of Dame Nature when
caring for her rhododendrons, azaleas, and laurels.
In the garden one can do no better than to try to
emulate her ways.

Laurel is of comparatively recent introduction
into the garden, owing, perhaps, to the idea that, like
the trailing arbutus, it is difficult to move successfully.
Expert nurserymen, however, now grow the plants
so that they can be transplanted with but a small
percentage of loss, if any at all.

Plants not less lovely than the laurels, to grow under
the shade of rhododendrons or large azaleas, are the
Andromedas floribunda and Japonica. Their delicate
flowers appear as if molded in wax, while the intense
greenness of their foliage lasts over the winter.

This power of evergreens to endure is a charm that
never varies. When other shrubs succumb, they hold
out bravely, undaunted by the most unaccountable
of all combatants, the weather. Sometimes this
attribute of evergreenness is found in plants of delicate
appearance and dainty blossoms.

The little Daphne cneorum, with its tiny leaves
and pink-faced flowers, is among the most green of
evergreens. It is hardy and sweet and so attractive

[ 49 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

that it could not be out of place no matter where
planted. In the average garden it is unusual, occur-
ring more in those devoid of salvia, geraniums, and
other homely plants, and in which are seen specimens
more rare and costly. It looks well among the fine
planting of rocks, and invariably holds its individual
air when used as an edging plant about beds and
borders of promiscuous flowers. Its heads of bloom
peep out alluringly, pleasing also by their exquisite
fragrance. They show no fear of high gales and salt
air. Often heavy plantings of rhododendrons, azaleas,
laurels and the like can be effectively carried down to
shrubs as low as the arbutus and the beautiful Daphne
cneorum.

When choosing evergreens for a garden, there are
also the hollys, of which the American holly, Ilex
opaca, is perhaps the best known and beloved. Except
under very drastic conditions it is hardy along the
coast as far north as the southern part of Maine.
The remarkable luster of its green leaves and its con-
spicuous red drupes make up its attraction. As it
extends southward it grows into a large and imposing
tree, beautiful as an individual specimen. About
gardens it has a distinct use in giving stability to plant-
ings of deciduous shrubs. It can, moreover, be used
as a low hedge, as I have seen it about one of the
New Jersey coast gardens. This holly, however, like
the flowering dogwood, makes vandals of people other-
wise sane and righteous. When the note of Christ-
mas is in the air the holly suffers much as the dogwood
does when the gayety of May lures home-dwellers

[50 ]

PLATE XIV ICE PICTURES

BROAD-LEAVED SHRUBS

into the woods and open country. Garden fences
then seem built for ornament rather than for any
sort of protection.

Ilex crenata is a pretty Japanese holly, considerably
used for evergreen effects. Its drupes are black.

The mahonia or evergreen barberry, Berberis
aquifolium, shows glistening leaves which remind one
of the holly. It is one of the evergreens desirable
for shady, somewhat sheltered places.

The Japanese mahonia is even a more successful
shrub that B. aquifolium. It winters better, for though
neither of the mahonias actually die from cold, it
sometimes affects them to the extent of causing them
to lose their foliage, or rather to become deciduous.
The May flowers of the Japanese mahonia are bright
yellow, while the fruit appears as inviting in the
autumn as a small bunch of bright, blue grapes.

In regarding up-to-date American planting, the
thought of the Japanese invasion must occur. A
pleasant invasion it has been, covering the land with
an otherwise unknown beauty. Each year the list
of plants from the Land of the Rising Sun grows
longer; each year the newcomers bloom with a show
of luxuriance and hardiness equal to, if not surpassing,
that of the native species.

One Scotch plant of world-wide renown adapts
itself well to the sand and the moisture of gardens
near the sea. It reserves its soft-tinted flowers for
July, while its delicate, bright green foliage survives
the winter. The Scotch heather, Calluna vulgaris,
is indeed a dwarf evergreen adapted to grow in gardens,

[51]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

to edge beds of rhododendrons or other shrubs, or,
since it works in well among stones, to become an
inhabitant of rockeries. The light quality of the foliage
makes it appear, in truth, a child of the sea.

Leucothoé Catesbei, for which there is no common
name of more sentiment than dog hobble, is a native
of the southern states and possessed of much beauty.
It is well suited to live near the sea. It is, however,
a shrub scarcely seen at all under cultivation. In the
spring its little, waxlike flowers are very numerous and
effective, and in the autumn the flower buds, already
developed for the following year, turn to a vivid
shade of rich red, quite in keeping with the bright
leaves of the upper stem. The foliage of the main
body of the shrub remains green throughout the
winter, forming thus a most striking contrast to
the remaining parts of the plant.

L. racemosa, a relative of Catesby’s leucothoé, is
found in wild, swampy places along the coast. Near
the great South Bay it gives in June a gay, undisputed
charm to jungles of wild growth, including lambkill and
many shy orchids. From the woods it might be taken
advantageously to the outskirts of the garden in antici-
pation of its early summer beauty. But it is not an
evergreen as the Catesbei, and therefore less replete
with charm.

When broad-leaved evergreens are chosen for the
garden it is time to turn to the yuccas, or Adam’s
needles. Usually they make their appeal simply as
perennials, because of their high stalks of distinctive
flowers. Nevertheless the winter is not severe enough

[ 52]

BROAD-LEAVED SHRUBS

to drive the green from their clumps of long, lance-
shaped leaves.

Yucca filamentosa, christened by the Indians,
is the one generally known, although the varie-
ties pendulifolia and floriosa recurva are much
planted.

In several seaside gardens, I have noticed yuccas
stretching to extraordinary proportions. They like a
well-drained soil, somewhat sandy, and require full
exposure to the sun, and protection from rough winds
likely to tear their foliage. They should not be cramped
for room, since such a condition would prevent their
characteristic beauty from appearing. Rather they
are seen to advantage in bold groups near plants with
green foliage that offset, instead of detract from, their
personalities. In garden borders they are charming
when not planted in a straight line, but allowed to
weave themselves in and out among other plants.
Except under unusual circumstances they are not the
best choice for beds. Yuccas are remarkably hardy,
living to a considerable age. It is the part of wisdom
to divide their roots from time to time, and thus
to secure for the garden an increase in their num-
ber.

I like to see them planted against evergreens,
where the midday sun can illumine the whiteness of
their flowers. Once, I saw numbers of them in the
full glory of bloom before a hemlock hedge. The
sun shone upon them, radiating their whiteness until
it appeared as if liquid silver had been poured over
the spot. An hour later this peculiar effect was

[ 53 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

quite lost, the sun having turned from them. Then
each line stood out distinctly; each nod of the

waxen bells was clearly seen against the feathery
green.

[54]

OhLW Tel

NeLCEV ED TEV INATOsD Vo ch) AoPORTOEE VOR EAO CEE AX

CHAPTER VI

SHRUBS FOR SEASIDE PLANTING

) EFORE the garden is definitely planned and
planted, there are also innumerable shrubs
that cry for place and consideration. And

well may this be so, since they offer to the seaside
. dweller a wealth of beauty equal to that given by the
flowers. Shrubs are really the advance guard of the
garden; in turn they are protected by the great, endur-
ing trees. They form the middle link between the
trees and the garden.

There are many seashore homes that have no
gardens, and yet the grounds about them are kept
gay as a carnival by various shrubs which unfold in
succession from early spring until the autumn, and
even hold their greenness over the winter. In general,
they can be planted near the sea more indiscriminately
than trees, that is, if it is ever well to plant anything
without due regard to character and location. While the
majority of shrubs can do well near the sea, or rather
in its vicinity, they cannot be expected to thrive if
placed in its very jaws.

Shrubs respond quickly to the first warm touch
of spring. Like other green things of nature, they
make the calendar of the year. Even when spring
is wild and uncouth, color and force return to their

[ 55 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

twigs, and their buds swell in expectancy of its gentler
moods.

To place shrubs well about the lawn and outside
the garden is a most delicate art. Many of them
stand for an endurance almost as great as that of the
trees. As the years pass over them they grow large,
increasing the area over which their flowers can be
produced. They should often, therefore, be planted
with the idea of holding their places permanently.
There is an irreverence in ousting shrubs from soil
in which they have once become established. When
thoughtfully arranged, they are capable of apparently.
contracting spaces, while imparting to others a look
of extent and broadness to which they are not entitled.
Many an optical illusion has been devised by cleverly
planted shrubs; many small bits of ground have been
hopelessly belittled by those set in the wrong places.
Almost invariably it is a mistake to allow shrubs or
other planting to encroach on the open, center lawn.

There are few who would deny that shrubs form
the most remarkable decoration of the greater number
of seaside homes. In motoring along the Sound from
New York to Bridgeport, passing from one town to
another it is not the gardens one notices about the
homes as much as the flowering shrubs. In May and
June especially they gladden the way of the motorist
as a series of great bouquets. In most cases, the
gardens are farther back from the roadway, more
hidden from view.

In the choice of shrubs, the question of the particu-
lar fitness of each one to the place it is to occupy,

[ 56 ]

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

and the purpose it is to fulfil, should be uppermost.
There are those that illumine the spring; others that
show their flowers in summer; others that reserve
their glory for the autumn, and still others that remain
green, showing indifference to the winter. To obtain
special effects for each season should be the aim
of planters. A lawn bestrewn with shrubs giving
flowers only in spring would hold its beauty for but
a short time: the summer and autumn would find it
an extremely dull place.

The various golden bells, Forsythias, are veritable
shrubs of the spring, adapted to plant outside the
garden. They show themselves prominently not only
about the lawns of the large estates of this country,
but are also seen by many an humble doorway. All
love them, young and old, especially those, it seems,
who do not know their names. They unfold after
the red maples have lost their blossoms and when
the hepaticas of the woods have become scarce; they
also follow the snowdrops, Siberian squills, and cro-
cuses that have had the courage to smile in the face
of March. But they are not far behind these early
comers. Innumerable little flowers burst from the
buds that sit jauntily on the vividly colored twigs,
and transform the whole shrub into a bold mass of
bright yellow.

Forsythia viridissima is the variety most generally
planted, although suspensa, the drooping golden bell,
is rapidly becoming the greater favorite, since the
curve of its slender, vinelike branches is extremely
effective when covered with the wondrously gay

[57]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

flowers. To overhang a bank or to place among
rockwork, there are few better shrubs. After their
bloom is passed, the golden bells with their deli-
cate, unobtrusive leaves still present a chaste, re-
fined appearance. For this reason the erect forms,
viridissima and Fortunit, of which the latter while
growing tall is inclined to bend, are much used in the
massing of shrubbery. Throughout the early spring,
they give cheer to the whole mass, while later they
lose themselves in a green background for other
shrubs.

It is customary to prune the Forsythias rather
severely as soon as their bloom is past, that they may
be relieved of all spent wood and have their vigor
turned in the direction of producing strong flowering
shoots for the next season.

Before these early, brilliant shrubs have shown
signs of waning, the wood of Cydonia Japonica, or
the Japanese quince, is fiery red, with rounded blossoms
which have won for it, among the people, the name
of fire bush. Throughout its season of bloom, this
shrub remains a most marked figure among deciduous
plants. As it grows old and sizable, it becomes very
beautiful, being then fairly covered with well-shaped,
exquisite blossoms. The fire bush is extremely hardy
and possessed of daintily formed, vividly green foliage
often ruddy tinged.

It seems strange that these shrubs are not more
often planted in clumps and used in high contrast to
the Forsythias. They would then produce, in early
spring, much the same color effect as is wrought by

[58 ]

N@GHVYD GIO NV NI SNOUCNAGCOGOHY IAX ALVTd

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

the changed leafage of the red and the silver maples
in the autumn.

There is a lovely Cydonia of pure white blossoms,
alba simplex, which shows to advantage when planted
beside the more familiar fire bush. Other varieties
are seen with delicate pink, salmon-colored, and even
red and white striped flowers, all of which have indi-
vidual attraction.

The use of the Japanese quinces for flowering
hedges is well known (page 77).

After the golden bells, the early magnolias, and
the Japanese quinces have had their day, the shrubs
of May unfold as with sudden energy. The month,
indeed, shows spring clothed in exquisite luxury.
The dogwood is seen not only outside the garden, but
peeping through the edges of the woods.

The flowering dogwood tree, Cornus florida, is natu-
rally the member that has made its family famous.
Some of its relatives, however, which have not the
beautiful white involucre of the Cornus florida are still
desirable among shrubbery on account of the brilliancy
of their twigs in winter and their bright colored berries.
As a rule they do well in seaside places; often where
the soil is moist. One species is remarkable for its
golden yellow foliage, another for its blue berries, while
the red-flowered dogwood has become highly popular
through the extreme beauty of its spring offering.
So many varieties of dogwood shrubs are now avail-
able that it is possible to produce many effects of
color with them, either when planted among shrubbery
or as single specimens on the lawn. In the garden

[59 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

they occur but seldom unless space is free and they
can be used as background shrubs, alive with color.
Almost invariably the dogwoods do well in shady
places.

May is also the time when the lilacs perfume the
air with their subtle, indescribable scent. Indeed,
he who owns a veteran lilac bush has at least one
trusty, springtime friend. Of late, these bushes have
been planted rather sparingly, as they are subject to
a scale that causes their foliage to rust and turn un-
sightly. Some of the Persian and Chinese lilacs show
daintily formed foliage and exquisite blooms in great
profusion, and are thought to be less subject to disease
than the common purple lilac, Syringa vulgaris, guar-
dian of many modest gateways in America.

A treelike shrub, not so well known as the lilacs, is
the silver bell, or snowdrop tree, Halesia tetraptera.
In early spring, it is fairly hung with silvery white
bells appearing like snowdrops turned upside down.
I have seen it at the back of a hardy border of
plants, its branches, laden with white bells, hanging
over azaleas, bursting peonies, and innumerable other
flowers. It stood possibly an eighth of a mile from
the water, snuggled in among much shrubbery having
for protection a high arbor vite wind-break. The
quaintness of the bloom and its delicacy make the
shrub a marked individual even in a spot of pluri-
color. The leafage of the silver bell is not fine, although
the four-winged seed pods occurring later in the season
are interesting.

At no time of the year are flowers more desired

[ 60 |

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

than in early spring. The out-of-door world is then —
alive with expectancy. At this season one of the bush
honeysuckles, Lonicera fragrantissima, shows from
drooping branches its delicate white flowers tinted
with pink. The fragrance of this shrub is an attrac-
tion and it is, moreover, almost an evergreen.

L. phylomele barely allows April to pass without
pushing forth its flowers, while L. tatarica, a decidedly
pretty shrub for the border, waits until June to unfold
its bloom, which is followed in late summer by red
berries.

A fleecy flowered shrub, on which I believe no
common name has been bestowed, is Deutzia gracilis.
In May, it seems to lose its identity in that of a white
cloud. In comparison with most shrubs, it grows
low and, therefore, often finds its way into the garden
borders, where its bushy growth and generous out-
pouring of flowers make it very desirable. It can
be used with great effect for ornamental hedging
within the garden (page 78).

Like most good shrubs, D. gracilis has several
interesting relatives. D. scabra candidissima grows
tall, reserving its white flowers until July; the variety
called rosea sends out pink flowers. The Pride of
Rochester is a form that bears double white flowers;
D. crenata grows tall and produces double pink flowers.
The latter is often used as a single specimen on the
lawn, owing to its height and its effective display of
flowers. It is from Japan, extremely hardy, and of
rapid growth.

The Azaleas are among the hardy shrubs that

[61]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

seem especially appropriate to take into the garden
as well as to use in front of tall plants forming beds
or borders. Again they compose stunning masses in
spots of intense dark verdure where the vivid color
of their flowers shows to advantage.

Early in May, the large flowers of Azalea mollis
mark their immediate vicinity as the spot of all others
for deep admiration, even wonder. For their flowers
come out in all the varied tints and harmonies of
an undaunted flame. From lemon yellow they pass
through the shades of orange, saffron, and carmine
to one of vivid vermilion, paling again to orange and
returning at length to the fiery hue. Of all the hardy
shrubs this one seems to me the most compelling in
early spring. I have seen it used to form large rect-
angular beds, marking the driveways of great estates,
mingled with perennials in hardy borders, in front
of extensive plantings of rhododendrons, and also
banked before solemn looking evergreens, in which
situation I liked it best of all. It is equally valuable
for the formal garden and for general planting, and,
happily, it does extremely well in the heat of many
seaside places. A. mollis is a Japanese, another in-
stance of the beauty that has come to America from
that land. In extreme exposures, it may need pro-
tection for a year or two after its planting; but as a rule
it is quite hardy, improving in size and the abundance
of its flowers with each succeeding season.

The Ghent or hybrid American azaleas are among
the most hardy shrubs, occurring in so many pleasing
colors that there is scarcely a limit to the effects that

[ 62 ]

NARCISSUS POETICUS

AND

RHODODENDRONS

PLATE XVII

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

can be produced with them. They are of particular
merit within the garden, but they hold back their
bloom for two or three weeks after that of the Japanese
beauty, and are therefore not so electrifying an incident
of the early spring.

A. nudiflora, the wild honeysuckle or pinxter
flower, which is at home in the woods, is beautiful
through naturalistic stretches of planting. Its deli-
cate pink flowers are seen as spring moves on toward
summer. A. viscosa, also a native species, does not
open its white flowers until July. These native
azaleas have about them a wild, woodsy charm,
quite different from that of the hybrids bred for the
garden. It is a charm less pronounced, more elusive.
For this reason they appear best when chosen for
secluded nooks outside the garden.

A. amena is the most dwarfish of the group and
of distinctive personality because of the evergreen
quality of its leaves, tinted with tones of blood-red
overlaid with bronze (page 48).

The Tamarix, less known than many other shrubs,
is a worthy seaside dweller, since its delicate sprays
of pastel pink flowers, opening in May, are as soft as
the mist and its asparagus-like foliage sways. grace-
fully with the wind. There are several varieties of
Tamarix, but the one called gallica is most often seen
in seashore places. It is planted occasionally for
shade. This shrub, especially, requires judicious prun-
ing, that its slender, willow-like growth may not render
it scraggly and unkept looking.

No one could pass by the deciduous shrubs without

[ 63 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

pausing before the spirzeas, a group that, from early
May until the autumn, shows some representative
member in bloom. In May, even before its leaves
have opened, the pendulous branches of Spirea Van
Houttei are crowded with blossoms which give it the
appearance of a colossal snowball. S. Thunbergw
also loosens its white flowers early in May and holds
its distinction throughout the season by its unusually
light, fine foliage. The well-known, upright bridal
wreath, S. prunifolia, than which there is no fairer
shrub, comes into abundant bloom in late May. When
landscape effects are desired or shrubbery borders
are to be planted, the spirwas are seldom overlooked,
for they are capable of helping out many designs.
S. opulifolia aurea serves as a plant of golden leafage
to give cheer to somber looking masses of foliage,
besides being in itself a highly attractive individual.

The type opulifolia is one of the notable June-
blooming spireas: S. Billardi shows its upright, steeple-
shaped spikes of pink flowers in late June, when one
begins to regret the passing of the flowering shrubs.

It is Anthony Waterer, S. Bumalda, however,
that, standing upright, produces its flat, soft crimson
flower heads throughout the summer. At Shelter
Island, the Anthony Waterer is in full bloom about
the fourth of July, and there I have seen it regarded,
not with the formal admiration that usually falls to
a shrub, but as a veritable picking garden. This
was in a large estate to which the owners returned
too late in the season to give personal direction to
the gardener. He, it seemed, had a special fondness

[ 64 ]

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

for Anthony Waterer, either because of its hardiness
in that situation or because of its generous offering
of flowers. It was planted in beds as one might
treat roses, made into hedges, where, indeed, it was
very effective (page 77), and used extensively wherever
there was excuse. The children of the place looked
upon it as a flowering plant and treated it with the
familiarity that they would extend to Joe Pye weed.
They gathered large bouquets of it, made it into
wreaths, and fairly reveled in its abundance. In the
dining room it was used for a decoration, and also to
fill large vases on the veranda. How these shrubs
eventually weathered the season, I never knew. They
were, at least, saved from the period of ugliness this
species undergoes when the flower heads are faded.

Many, indeed, are the shrubs of late April and May
that open, bloom, and pass before the entrance of
June. But they are not forgotten, for frequently they
have relatives, as has been mentioned, that keep their
families in remembrance throughout the season.

The opening of the Weigelias is a sign of June,
although in seasons of advanced growth they scarcely
wait until then before letting free their masses of flowers.
With its long sprays covered with blossoms, Weigelia
rosea suggests a huge bouquet intensified against an
early summer sky. It is much used among shrubbery
and also as a single specimen.

Until a year ago, I had a pricking prejudice against
this group of shrubs, thinking their foliage coarse
and their trumpet-shaped flowers of no special attrac-
tion. But one day I passed through several towns

[ 65 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

by the Sound and saw then that the Weigelias were
the true glory of the way. Many were very large,
old shrubs, and there was scarcely a spray or a twig
that was not laden with flowers. As a contrast to
the rosea, W. candida was frequently planted and bore
its pure white flowers in great numbers.

There is still another variety that bears variegated
leaves and pink flowers, another with striped flowers,
and also the remarkable Weigelia Eva Rathke, which
holds its deep scarlet offering until the bloom of all
the others is over.

The Weigelias can be found in almost every notable
group of shrubs. It is in their favor that they grow
rapidly and are of hardy, robust habits.

June or even late May is the time of the snowballs.
Viburnum opulus var. sterile, the best known member
of the group, occurs on many lawns. While it is
often used for mass effects, the idea that it should
stand alone to show its distinctive beauty is gaining
ground. About its great white snowballs standing
out clearly against the intense green leaves, there is
somewhat the artistic quality that is associated with
the flowering dogwood. This snowball, besides, has
its place in the garden as guardian of prominent posi-
tions. It is charming in company with tree peonies,
and also admirable for many formal effects.

V. plicatum, a Japanese relative of the snowball,
and regarded by many as a better shrub, comes into
bloom in late May or early June and remains a glad-
dening sight for a considerable time. It should be
planted in the spring.

[ 66 ]

PLATE XVIII THE WAY TO THE BATH HOUSE

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

With the exception of the snowballs, the Viburnums,
for the most part, bear flat heads of fleecy looking,
white flowers, not particularly effective. For this
reason these shrubs are not so valuable for their flowers
as for their colored berries and their brilliant autumn
foliage. V. tomentosum, the Japanese single snowball,
ripens its berries as early as August, and its plicated,
amber-colored leaves make it a leader of autumnal
beauty. V. dentatum, or arrow wood, is useful to
fill moist places, but is not particularly desirable for
the lawn or entrance into the garden.

The bloom of the fringe tree, Chionanthus Virginicus,
is identified with June, and casts over this attractive
relative of the ash a look of having been artificially
decorated. Indeed, the loose panicles of fringelike
blossoms give it an air apart, one quite distinct and
lovely. It does well in shady places, illuminating
its surroundings, and is also admirable in prominent
places on the lawn, as throughout the year its form
is very pleasing. This low growing tree does not like
much pruning. In fact, without clipping it becomes
more beautiful each year.

Many of the most perfect shrubs that I have seen
were those that had not been fretted with much pruning.
As arule, shrubs have a very individual and excellent
manner of growth and require, instead of severe pruning
merely a little helping out in the case of unforeseen
difficulties. For so perverse are the ways of nature,
that occasionally a shrub with a pendulous habit will
send up a shoot as tall and straight as if it were aimed
forthesky. To retain, then, the character of the shrub,

[ 67 |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

this irreverent offspring must be sacrificed. Shrubs
of symmetrical habit should be kept in the right and
narrow path by judicious pruning. All dead and
unsightly wood should be removed without fail. Again,
with some shrubs, as the Forsythia, it is necessary
to remove the spent flowering wood as soon as the
bloom is over. Pruning, in truth, should be a matter
of special observation in connection with each shrub.
Experience alone teaches when and to what extent
they will brook shearing, and also that many prefer
to be left untouched.

The Hercules club, Aralia spinosa, claims a certain
dominion over many garden builders,—not, however,
for its flowers, but for its extreme grace of personality.
Its enormous compound leaves are very picturesque
and the shrub grows rapidly into an imposing lawn
specimen. It is also much used at the back of lower
growing shrubs. It likes rich, somewhat dry soil and
does not care to encounter too strongly the atmos-
phere of the sea. When planted about two hundred
feet away from the water, I have noticed it cringe and
show exceedingly feeble spirits. Yet, the same shrub
and another that had died down to the ground came
up in renewed splendor when transplanted to the
outskirts of a garden at the rear of the house and
considerably farther back from the sea.

Almost every group of shrubbery includes the
mock orange, known by its waxen, sweet-scented
flowers. Philadelphus coronarius is the one familiar
to all, recalling by its wafts of strong fragrance the
romance of many an old-time gateway. There are

[ 68 ]

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

several varieties of mock oranges now in use, of which
the aureus is useful among other shrubs on account
of the golden tones of its foliage. As with the For-
sythias, it is customary to prune the mock oranges
shortly after their bloom is over.

Calycanthus floridus is also a shrub of old-time
memory and sentiment. It is the strawberry-scented
shrub, the reddish brown blossoms of which have been
laid away among mouchoirs and trifles innumerable.
Indeed, this shrub is well worth a place either within
or without the garden. Its habit of growth is rounded
and bushy and the little flowers give pleasure as long
as they endure. In mass planting it is rather lost.

The common elder, Sambucus Canadensis, will
often do well in damp soil, where it is difficult to grow
many other shrubs. In June, its flat heads of white
flowers are very pleasing.

So many, indeed, are the shrubs of spring and early
summer, so many the varieties ever on the increase,
and so unrelentingly do they follow each other in
succession, that the pageant wanes almost before we
have become used to its gaiety. July opens with
the greater number of shrubs disburdened of their
bloom; it presents an open field for those that are yet
to come.

The rose of Sharon (Althea), Hibiscus Syriacus,
is particularly effective in July, opening then its
white, pink, lavender, or even china blue flowers,
according to the variety, and holding them until
early autumn. When grown as specimens, these shrubs
develop a symmetrical form of considerable dignity,

[ 69 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

and are therefore useful to mark particular points
on the lawn or to accentuate lines within the garden.
Another of their uses is to form ornamental hedges
(page 76).

The true shrubs of the late summer, however,
and of the autumn, are the hydrangeas. So popular,
indeed, have they become in this country that the
humblest doorway is apt to show at least one of their
kind. The variety paniculata, the original Japanese
form, is most often seen, and holds its great panicles
of flowers as if proud of their size and beauty. For
broad, generous effects at seashore places, these shrubs
are particularly well adapted. ‘They have great hardi-
ness and are apparently indifferent to the nearness of
the sea.

Hydrangea paniculata grandiflora, the most notice-
able of the autumn shrubs, is an alluring sight when
planted en masse and when, after several years of
uninterrupted growth, it has attained its maximum
proportions.

H. radiata is serviceable in places where foliage
effects are desired, as the undersides of its leaves are
a silky, silvery white.

Several varieties of hydrangeas are in favor which
produce bright, glossy foliage and flat heads of flowers
composed of sterile ones around the edges while those
that are fertile are within the centers. Owing to
the insignificance of these blooms in comparison with
those of the varieties bearing panicles of flowers, it is
inexplicable to me that they should be chosen.

H. paniculata grandiflora seems to combine all the

[70 |

TLLLAOW NVA VOWUlds XIX GLVId

SHRUBS FOR PLANTING

excellencies of the group. As the summer moves on,
its great panicles of bloom turn to pastel pink, a pleas-
ing color. Later they take on tones of olive and a
dulled red which proclaims the first nip of Jack Frost.

H. Hortensea otaksa is one of the varieties which is
familiarly seen in tubs and which sends forth either
pink or blue heads of flowers. For formal work and
the decoration of large estates, these particular hydran-
geas of Japanese origin are used most effectively.
They are under the ban of plants dominated by
fashion. One year at Newport they were seen, about
the lawns of many places, colored blue, another year
the mandate went forth that they should all occur in
pink. To color, indeed, they are not constant. This
kind of hydrangea, moreover, is not absolutely hardy,
requiring protection over the winter.

It might almost be said that the season of flowering
shrubs ends when autumn touches the flowers of the
hardy hydrangeas, and that the eye must then turn
for satisfaction to shrubs of radiant autumn foliage.
The sumacs, of which none is finer than the stag’s
horn, Rhus typhina, become, at this season, striking
individuals on account of their velvety, rich-toned
panicles of fruit and brilliant leaves.

Rhus glabra laciniata, with its finely divided sprays
of foliage, is one of the best for forming large clumps,
and is more vividly red perhaps than the better known
species.

Once, in the late autumn, I passed a meadow where
the sumacs reigned in unrivaled splendor. Through
the reds, the browns, the olive greens, and the yellows

[71]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

of surrounding growth subdued by the autumn mist,
they arose as the highest note of color. The meadow
represented a bit of nature’s planting, one seldom out-
done by even the most skilfully devised schemes.

In the late season, the barberry, Berberis Thun-
bergut, a low growing shrub from the land of the
Mikado, comes into its kingdom of scarlet foliage
and sprays fairly bejeweled with red berries that
persist over the winter. It is one of the hardiest
shrubs, standing unusually cold exposures. It should
not be omitted from plantings of any importance.
Its special field is to make hedges (page 79) and to
outline garden boundaries.

The deciduous holly, Jlex verticillatus, holds its
berries in quite a different way from the Japanese
barberry, and also enlivens the oncoming days of
winter. As its leaves fall the berries come into marked
prominence, clinging closely and in abundance to the
twigs.

As a contrast to the red berries of the deciduous
holly, those of the common snowberry, Symphoricarpos
racemosus, are large and waxen, white as the snows
of winter which they remain to greet.

[72]

CHAPTER VII

HEDGES

HE many beautiful hedges that are seen in
America to-day, instead of the various fences
which, until comparatively a few years ago,

held a strong place here, are a sign of an increased
love of nature and a knowledge of her available
material. Whether planted for the virtue of ever-
greenness or for the ability to produce flowers, the
hedge is now recognized as a living thing of interest
and beauty.

The hedges of England have been as much admired
as the ivy covering the battlements of her castles;
and although some Englishmen have praised America
because the homes of her people are not enclosed by
hedges, but on the contrary face the open, it is most
assuredly true that the aspect of England would suffer
greatly by the removal of her hedges.

In seashore towns, not far from large cities, where
the order of detached houses prevails, the hedge should
be especially encouraged. In such places little enough
of nature is allowed to remain; for houses set closely
together along the street, pavements, and other restric-
tions almost put an end to the real benefits of the
country. The more greenness, then, that can be kept
near the houses, the greater their attraction. At

[73 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

large estates, where abundant planting is done inside
the gates, the employment of hedges to shut off the
property is not so necessary as in many other cases,
although to some minds desirable.

The California privet, Ligustrum ovalifolium, has,
in the last few years, made its way as a hedge plant
faster than any other. It is not evergreen, but its
dark, abundant foliage holds until late in the autumn.
The shrub grows rapidly and, with the exception of
the necessary summer pruning to keep it at a desired
height, requires little care. It will not live in the
extremely bleak and cold situations of the far north.
L. ibota, a Japanese variety which is very hardy, is
a better combatant of severe climatic conditions.

There are, besides, privets of golden variegated
foliage, — and one especially of pendulous habit, —
which are useful to mingle with shrubbery or to plant
singly. For the hedge, however, they have scarcely
the restful, sturdy qualities of the better known
varieties.

Another hedge plant that makes an appeal pre-
eminently through its green, although non-evergreen,
foliage, is the buckthorn, Rhamnus cathartica, one
well known, but of more general use in old gardens
than in those of to-day. The wonderful buckthorn
hedge shown in plate xxii. is over eighty years old,—a
fact worthy of comment, even though a century ago
buckthorn was most popular for making hedges and
forming arches. This hedge is seven feet high and
seven feet across its top. It can be seen at Salem
by the shore of the river and scarcely a mile away

[74]

SVOLON VTC CIT NX OhLWTd

HEDGES

from the outer harbor. So remarkably does it with-
stand time, climate, and the onslaught of insects, that
in summer it remains in almost perfect condition,
with apparently no loss of leaves. The value of such
a hedge, from the standpoint of both beauty and senti-
ment, is inestimable.

The osage orange, Tozxylon pomiferum, has long
been regarded as a valuable plant with which to form
hedges, especially those that are desired for naturalistic
rather than formal effects. Its best use, perhaps, is
to traverse large areas where something in the nature
of a hedge wall is required, or a low, dense wind-break,
for which it is suitable on account of its free branching
habit. The osage orange is partial to sunlight, though
it is also tolerant of shade; and its great hardiness
enables it to adapt itself to various soils and climatic
conditions.

Barberry was used for many early American
hedges. The employment of the native variety, Ber-
beris vulgaris purpurea, however, has now given place
almost entirely to the Japanese relative, B. Thunbergit.
This form does not grow within a foot so high as the
native, and is thought by many to be best of all plants
to form a low, bushy hedge. The gay, autumn color
of its leaves is a decided attraction, enhanced greatly
by sprays of multitudinous, bright, red berries, which
would last well into the winter did not the birds find
them so satisfying to the appetite. I have seen this
barberry used not only for low hedges about an estate,
the front lawn of which lost its outer boundary in the
sea, but also to outline paths in the garden and to fill

[75 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

crescent-shaped beds not far distant from Japanese
maples and small, rare evergreens. In the early
season, it appeared as if its planting had been a trifle
overdone, although later, when the dreary, half-gray
days lingered, and when each plant was aglow with
red berries, they were seen with a sense of gratitude.

The period of occupancy of a home should be one
of the points considered when the surrounding hedges
are planted. When the house is closed for the winter
months, evergreen hedges are not so important as
when it is kept open during the whole year, that is,
unless the completeness of the place itself is aimed at
rather than personal gratification. With those, how-
ever, who occupy their summer homes only during
the warm weather, the wish to see them then at the high
tide of their beauty is entirely natural. In this country,
flowering hedges are used more extensively each year,
and although it will probably be a long time before they
can vie with those of England, they still have attained
considerable perfection.

A tall, dignified, flowering hedge is formed by the
rose of Sharon (Althea), Hibiscus Syriacus. It is not
uncommon to see it twelve feet high, although eight
feet is a more usual height. It grows compactly and
serves in many instances the purpose of a strong
fence. Sometimes the white and crimson varieties
are set alternately, and when their flowers unfold in
mid-summer they produce together an effect at once
striking and beautiful. The great burst of bloom
from the majority of shrubs has then passed, making
the flowering of this hedge all the more acceptable.

[ 76 ]

HEDGES

The rose of Sharon requires winter pruning to induce
an abundance of blossoms for the following season.

The Japanese quince, or fire bush, Cydonia Japonica,
makes one of the most lovely of early spring flowering
hedges. It does not grow so high as the rose of Sharon,
seldom reaching five feet at the best. It is ideal,
however, where a hedge of medium height is desired,
and where the cheer of its exquisite blooms can be
appreciated in the days of the tulips, the white wistaria,
and the varying opalescent tints of unfolding spring.
Often these shrubs are planted as the roses of Sharon,
a white variety alternating with one of fiery red blos-
soms. Flowering hedges of solid color, however, are
thought by many to be the most pleasing.

That plants are set as a hedge does not mean, as
many seem to think, that ever after they must be
left to grow unaided even as the flowers of the field.
On the contrary, each year they require fertilizing,
and! generally pruning, that they may bear as great
an abundance of flowers as possible, and this is true
in spite of their having been planted originally in very
rich soil. A line of shrubs with only a scattered blossom
here and there is unworthy the name of a flowering
hedge.

Anthony Waterer, Spirea Bumalda, has come into
use to make a low, bushy hedge of soft-tinted flowers.
It is very sturdy, growing well near the sea. The
objection to it is that its flat-topped flower heads turn
in fading to an unattractive shade of brown, which
casts over the whole hedge a dingy, half-dead appear-
ance. It is, of course, possible to cut off the bloom as

[77 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

it begins to lose its color; but this process in turn
gives the hedge a look of being shorn and unfinished.

Spirea Van Houtter grows into one of the most
beautiful flowering hedges imaginable. It must be
given considerable space to spread its pendulous
branches, which, in late May and early June, are
strewn to their tips with cloudlike, dainty flowers. I
have seen one such hedge in perfection. It stands,
perhaps, six miles away from the ocean, yet the same
effect might be produced nearer wave and spray, as
the shrub is not one of shrinking nature. This par-
ticular hedge is planted on both sides of a long walk
and is visited when in blossom by people from far and
near who call it universally, “the Bride’s Way.”

Hydrangeas and snowballs are also used for flower-
ing hedges. I think, however, with many others,
that in this connection they do not strike the exact
note of appropriateness. In almost every case, it seems
preferable to keep them for lawn specimens for plant-
ing among clumps of shrubbery.

Deutzia gracilis, on the contrary, is exceedingly
charming when grown as a low hedge. It is often
selected to lead the way up to heavy planting or to
outline paths in the garden. It sends out its fleecy
blossoms in May, and then rests upon its laurels for
the remainder of the season. One woman of much
taste in garden building uprooted her hedge of D.
gracilis flanking the walk which led in a winding way
to her garden. She felt that it struck such a high key
during its season of flowers that without them the rest
of the year seemed tame and uneventful, and that

[78 ]

SEN AND PRIVET HEDGE

SCRE

GRAPE VINE

PLATE XXI

HEDGES

the whole locality had a hopelessly barren look when
the Deutzia hedge had stopped flowering. Eventually,
she replaced them with evergreens never reaching so
great a climax of beauty, yet changing little throughout
the year. She found these evergreens more restful
than the remarkable flowering hedge.

A Japanese rose, Rosa rugosa, and its hybrids has,
of late years, been found to make a most useful hedge
of medium height and close growth. In fact, when
well established a dog turns back discouraged before
the prospect of pushing through its prickly branches.
The growth of this rose is extremely vigorous, the
bushes increasing in size rapidly. The large single
blossoms, which are bright crimson or pure white,
unfold early, slightly before the June roses, for which
they pave the way. Later they are followed by hips
of unusual size and vividness of color. For a hedge
about or near a rose garden these bushes have value;
although it is a matter of individual taste whether to
have a hedge in bloom at the same time as the roses
or to choose one that will unfold either before or after
the garden has lost its own treasures.

For a dwarf rose hedge the crimson baby rambler
is steadily making its way. It is a marvelous little
plant, showing each day throughout the season large
clusters of crimson roses, yet never lifting them higher
than twenty inches. In brilliancy and endurance, the
crimson baby rambler forms a low hedge unrivaled
for many purposes.

For tall, fencelike hedges there are, besides the rose
of Sharon, the cockspur thorn, Crategus Crus-galli,

[79 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

one well known; also the American white thorn,
C. coccinea, showing scarlet fruit as an aftermath to
its white blossoms.

High hedges have been made of lilacs, moreover,
although not with general success. When lovely they
are abundantly so, but they are apt to be most dis-
appointing if not well grown.

The honey locust, Gleditsia triancanthos, free and
graceful in its growth, forms one of the truly successful
large hedges. It has a dislike to close clipping, and is
therefore not suitable for formal effects or for small,
conservative boundaries. To mark off a domain from
the wild, it is not only very beautiful, but satisfactory.

When the deciduous or the flowering hedge is set
aside in favor of one that is evergreen, the American
arbor vite, Thuja occidentalis, presents itself as a plant
of merit. It is often used near the sea as a wind-
break, and is especially adapted for hedges, as it stands
pruning well, grows very compactly, and has a soft,
harmonious form. Arbor vite can be used for formal
hedges or for those that are naturalistic in character.
In fact, it requires but little ingenuity on the part of
the garden builder to make it serve his will.

I have seen a hedge of arbor vite some fifteen
feet high, through which one passed by means of a
clipped-out archway into the garden lying beyond,
no hint of the beauty of which could be gained until
this stately wall of green was left behind.

Smaller hedges within this garden were made of
the Norway spruce, Picea excelsa, kept low and in
rigorous outline by pruning. Undoubtedly, there is

[ 80 ]

HEDGES

a prim look about this spruce when used as a low
hedge, yet in the case mentioned it was rather advan-
tageous to the garden.

I have noticed other formal gardens in which
many plants not remarkable for their hardiness were
able to live simply because they were walled in by
unbroken hedges of spruces. These hedges averaged
about four feet high, being kept down by shearing.
In a seaside town, I also remember one very large
garden, the outer planting of which consisted exclu-
sively of shrubs well adapted to the situation and
climate. As I came near the center of this garden,
however, I saw a low hedge in the form of a rectangle,
which enclosed many delicate, even rare plants. It
was formed also of spruces, showing four attractively
made entrances. These evergreens thus treated were
not only of use as protectors of plant life, but they
gave a very dignified aspect to the whole garden.

The hemlock spruce, Tsuga Canadensis, does not
resent pruning and forms a hedge of unrivaled beauty.
For bordering stretches of woodland or semi-wild
planting there is no better tree. It prefers a situation
partly shaded to one of full sunlight, a fact which is
often a strong reason for its selection. The branches
of the hemlock spruce are very flexible and fleecy
looking, and when seen-in dark, glenlike places they
impart grace and an open, light quality to the sur-
rounding planting. Plate xxiv. shows such a hedge
before which a number of crocuses, freshly opened,
raise their dainty cups.

That box is an evergreen is undoubtedly one

[81]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

reason for its having been the all-desired low hedge
plant of old gardens, and one that is of prime importance
in many places that are new. Its prim, wholesome
air has remained unchanged from one generation to
another, and the odor of its leaves, so dear to some
and so disliked by others, is intertwined with many
tales of mystery. In olden days, box was planted
shortly after the entrance to a place was established,
and usually it endured long after the gate had been
unhinged for repairs.

At present, it is frequently said that box winter-
kills; still there are innumerable instances of its having
lived long and well under what are considered severe
climates. The Puritans, in their early New England
winters of hardships, had with them the box as a
cheering companion. To-day at Sylvester Manor,
Shelter Island, a place not of gentle temper in the
winter, the box is of far-famed age, strong, sturdy stems,
and almost unmarred foliage. The oldest of it stands
sixteen and eighteen feet high. It was planted in
1652 by the first mistress of the garden, and by its
strong personality and mystic odor it still has the power
to turn the thoughts of those visiting it to distant
scenes and people long dead.

About the homes of the southern coast towns,
box does not winter-kill, but rather grows to propor-
tions seldom attained in the northern states.

To enumerate the gardens that have been enclosed
in box and that have had their beds and borders
edged with it would fill a volume, touching the history
and romance of many nations. Long ago, its unvary-

[82]

LEV Tal

LESSEN

ONUWOHLMOLLE

WOCUH

HEDGES

ing personality was appreciated as a becoming foil
to the multitudinous colors of flowers and their different
shapes and expressions. In modern gardens, box has
still this purpose,— to offset the beauty of flowers and
to define the spaces in which they grow. Years are
required to form a sizable hedge of box; but when
one is attained, its owner has a valuable possession.
In Plate xxv. is given an illustration of a Salem garden
well over a hundred years old, the paths through which
are edged with box. Here the vividness of its small,
lustrous leaves snugly set together makes the green
of all else in the garden appear more brilliant than its
wont, while the colors of the surrounding flowers seem
to scorn the hour of fading.

Box requires considerable care and very judicious
pruning, yet this is given freely by those who love it,
since for them no other shrub can take the place of.
this evergreen of long traditions and unspoken messages.

A plant adaptable for low hedges, one which com-
bines the merit of evergreenness with that of bearing
beautiful wine-colored flowers, is Azalea amena. The
test of climate, however, must be made before it is
planted, as it has rather a dislike to intense cold. I
have seen it, nevertheless, about four hundred feet
away from the sea, fulfilling all that was expected of
it in the way of producing myriads of flowers and leaves,
which in rich shades of bronze and red remained fresh
over the winter. The plant will never make a high
hedge, but is an excellent one for low outline work
inside the garden limits.

[83 ]

CHAPTER VIII

CONCERNING VINES

f |” the beauty of the garden and the home
grounds, vines are as necessary as the lawn,
the shrubs, and the trees. Occasionally they

enter into the garden proper, and again they grace the
entrance of one that is enclosed. The uses of vines
are many, for they are the beneficent plants of
nature, willing to cover up unsightly things, often of
rude necessity. Under the hand of man they become
adaptable screens, besides often ‘giving agreeable
shade and a generous outpouring of bloom.

As soon as the bolder growth —the trees and

the shrubs —of a country place has been located,
and assuredly before the garden is planned or planted,
the vines should come under consideration. Fences,
arches, trellises, the veranda, and the now fashionable
pergola would be poor indeed were it not for the vines
that cover their outlines and bring them into harmony
with the surrounding plant life. So beautiful and
so varied are the vines known to be hardy near the
sea that individual taste can be consulted when those
for planting are chosen.

It is, of course, the hardy perennial vines that are
the all-desired, since by their permanence and their
freedom in growing old and stately, they have attained

[ 84 ]

CONCERNING VINES

a position almost equal to that of the trees. A vine
covering a large space which it showers with blossoms
is often referred to as proudly as a lordly oak that has
been an object of admiration for generations.

About new places, especially those built in rather
barren spots by the sea, it is often the custom to plant
annual vines for decoration, until the perennial ones
have become sufficiently well established to give the
expected results. Japanese morning glories, Japanese
moonflowers, and Japanese hops are all excellent
annual vines for this purpose. In one season they
frequently make a growth of ten or twelve feet. They
are, in fact, very luxuriant, showing keenly the desire
to occupy as much of the soil as the wind and the
weather will permit. Many are so eager to spread that
after the first year it is a risk to plant them among
perennial vines, the growth of which they will in all
probability impede, if not completely choke to death.
Because of their great beauty, however, it is often
desirable to reserve space for annual vines and to sow
them each year.

Climbing nasturtiums are often given preference
when a vine of quick and lively growth is desired,
and when colored flowers of long duration are courted.
In many unusually cold places not far from the sea,
I have seen these vines growing most vigorously and
producing incredible numbers of pluri-colored flowers.
They formed a bold, artistic decoration, and it seemed
a pity that they should fall so completely a prey to
the winter.

Cobea scandens, a tender perennial, but a vine of

[ 85 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

slender grace and hung with large bell-shaped, purple
flowers, makes an astoundingly rapid growth during
its first season. To accelerate this characteristic, the
seeds should be started early in a hot bed or in
the house. This is one of the vines much used on
newly built pergolas.

The gourds are a remarkable family of climbing
annuals particularly noticeable on account of the many
and curious forms taken by their fruit. The calabash,
bearing dipper-shaped fruit, is a well-known member,
also the Chinese loofa, or sponge gourd, so called from
the fibrous network of the interior of the fruit. This
substance when dried has a recognized use, like the
sponge. Most of the gourds appear best on fences
or arbors. They are too pronounced in growth to
mingle with other vines.

June is undoubtedly the month of months in which
to enjoy the bloom of climbing vines. It then seems
as if they could keep their buds closed no longer, as
if they craved to give the delight of flowers as well as
the peculiar benefits of their supple stems and dense
foliage. Sometimes this June outburst is preceded
by the upholding of the wistarias in May, although
in places of harsh climate or when the season is back-
ward, they wait until June before putting forth their
flowers.

For many years in this country, the wistaria has
been the vine par excellence for the veranda. Its long,
graceful bunches of delicate purple flowers are familiar
to every one, although it is only by examining them
closely that one can realize their exquisite formation

[ 86 ]

THE OUTER AND INNER HEDGE

PLATE XNIITI

CONCERNING VINES

and coloring. Thousands of bees stir among these
blossoms, and their steady drowsy humming makes
one wish to bask near the vine, drink in the perfume of
the flowers, and forget all else but the subtle delights
of summer.

Although natives of China, the wistarias have
proved very hardy in this country. I know one
instance where the sturdy, intertwined growth of such
a vine has covered the whole side of a large house,
and another where a small house has been fairly
enwrapped by a wistaria.

The Chinese white wistaria is without a rival in
beauty, but it is not so generally hardy as the purple
variety. In appearance, it is much more delicate.
Nevertheless, in a particularly cold situation on Long
Island, there is a white wistaria of great age and aston-
ishingly robust growth. Although I have never seen
this vine, I have listened often to its remarkable story.
Like the two purple wistarias, already mentioned, it
is looked upon as a distinct and well-known personality
for many miles about its home.

In the southern United States, there is a native
wistaria, Kraunhia (wistaria) frutescens. Its racemes
of bloom, however, have not the length nor regal
beauty of the Chinese varieties.

Next to the wistarias, it would seem that the honey-
suckles should be considered for endurance outside
the garden. The family to which they belong is a
large one, including many members of individual
attraction and noted mostly for the rapidity of their
growth.

[87]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

The Japanese honeysuckle, Lonicera Hallena, makes
an especially quick growth, soon becoming a delight
through the fragrance shed by its deep cream-colored
and yellow flowers. It holds its leaves until late in
the autumn, being almost evergreen. The rapid
growth of this vine and the endurance of its foliage
make it doubly desirable for covering fences, although
its most subtle charm lies undoubtedly in its perfume.

Not far from New York City and near the Sound,
there is a fence that extends for a long distance so
completely covered with this vine that it appears like
a veritable hedge of honeysuckle. When in bloom,
it fills the air with its sweet scent. It entices thou-
sands of automobilists that pass by it each season
to stop and acknowledge its charming and inspiring
beauty.

The Belgian honeysuckle, L. Belgica, is the popular
striped red-and-white variety which bears its fragrant
flowers throughout the greater part of the summer.

The trumpet honeysuckle, or woodbine, L. semper-
virens, is an attractive native vine well known by its
long, trumpet-shaped scarlet flowers and later by its
scarlet fruit. Its fleshy leaves have the peculiarity
of uniting about the stem. The flowers, however,
are without fragrance, an attribute of much charm
in other members of the family.

Akebia quinata, a Japanese vine of delicate, attract-
ive foliage and fragrant, odd-colored flowers occurring
early in the season, is also rapid in its growth and looks
especially well on rocks and on banks and trellises.

The Virginia creeper, Ampelopsis quinquefolia, is

[ 88 ]

TULIPS BEFORE A HEMLOCK SPRUCK HEDGE

CONCERNING VINES

another vine of notably rapid growth. It is much
beloved, not for its flowers, which are insignificant,
but for the artistic quality of its foliage and the wonder-
fully brilliant colors to which it turns in the autumn.
This vine, moreover, is hardy to the point of being
declared difficult to kill in places where it has once
established a foothold. It has the power to cling
closely to the support over which it grows, and can
be relied on to enhance many natural effects. Invari-
ably it forms a graceful arch or bower and is at home
on rustic, irregular constructions. No other vine,
perhaps, would have suited the arch shown in plate
XXvill. as well as the Virginia creeper. All about this
arch there is a profusion of blossoms. A flowering
vine, therefore, was not necessary, while in the
autumn the red tones of the foliage of the Virginia
creeper give richness and warmth to the scene.

The Boston or Japanese ivy, A. Veitchit, a relative
of the Virginia creeper, and perhaps the most generally
known climber in the world, has a particular use where
a vine of close, clinging propensities is desired. It
seems especially eager to attach itself to the sides of
flat stone walls or the stonework of houses, for which
purpose there is no better vine. In the autumn it
shows its leaves in all their lustrous beauty, richly
changed to many shades of red and green, and becomes
then one of the most striking effects of nature. It is
not so rapid in its growth as the Virginia creeper.

In 1860, when the sacred mountain of Fujiyama
in Japan was first ascended by Europeans, Mr. John
Gould Veitch discovered this vine there, and after an

[ 89 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

interval of about eight years its distribution became
almost world-wide.

The trumpet vines cling well to walls and trellises
and form graceful arches. Tecoma (Bignonia) radicans
is the common variety, native of the southwestern
United States, and yet widely known northward
through cultivation. Its boldly formed and beautiful
scarlet flowers open at the time of the purple wistaria.
Humming birds know them well and the drop of nectar
at the base of their tubes. In fact, the only nest of
these birds that I have ever been able to find was
attached very snugly to a powerful old trumpet vine.

The foliage of the Dutchman’s pipe, Aristolochia
Sipho, through being broad and well formed, is very
serviceable in places where dense close shade is desired.
The green blossom of this vine, however, while curiously
in the shape of a pipe, is of little ornamental value.
Frequently the Dutchman’s pipe is planted at the sides
of verandas from which it is desired to block out the
sight of a neighboring house or other object. It is
also used to form arbors and to cover architectural
introductions in the garden. In places where bloom
is abundant, the bold greenness of this vine is as
restful as that of a tree. In late summer the foliage
becomes very effective and massive.

The density required of a vine should be given
some thought before one is chosen to plant by a veranda.
When the outlook from such a place is attractive,
there is no reason for a close screen, because the light
and air passing through a vine and the glimpses afforded
of a distant scene assist greatly in making a veranda

[ 90 ]

CONCERNING VINES

an agreeable place. It seems truly that the wistarias
cannot be improved on as protection for verandas,
and that to them the Japanese honeysuckle plays a
good second.

The family of Clematis provides a number of lovely
vines, among which the paniculata is now the most
generally seen, although it is one of comparatively
recent introduction from Japan. It is of value in
late August and September when bloom is at low tide
in the garden, unfolding then its starry white flowers
of luscious scent in quantities that make it appear
like a dense, white cloud. This vine is much grown
on porches, although after a few years’ establishment
it becomes somewhat ponderous. This can be con-
trolled, however, by cutting it rather severely at the
approach of winter. It flourishes well on fences,
trellises, and old tree stumps, and invariably becomes
a thing of beauty in its day of blossoming.

The illustration (plate xxix.) is of a place in Marble-
head, Massachusetts, that would be vastly ugly were
it not for the high pillar formed by this vine through
which a climbing nasturtium has wound its way. The
delicacy of the white blossoms is here seen in contrast
to the bold, brilliant hues of the nasturtiums.

This member of the Clematis family has become
a vine of the people. In a small seaside town through
which I passed in early September, the atmosphere
was fairly redolent with its perfume. The houses,
standing back but a few feet from the road, showed
almost without exception the C. paniculata rising
triumphantly over the front porches.

[91]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

C. Jackmanii, with its large, flat, star-shaped
flowers, is also a Japanese vine generally hardy near
the sea and noticeable during the warm, sweet days
of June. It is useful in places where bloom rather
than close leafage is desired. In fact, its foliage is not
at all impressive. It is most beautiful when planted
against the soft gray tones of stucco houses and in
places where there is no strong, combative color to
vie with the deep bluish purple of its flowers.

There are also large-flowered clematises of lighter
color than the Jackmanii, such as C. lanuginosa, and
C. Henryi, a beautiful white type.

The wild clematis of America, traveler’s joy, or
virgin’s bower, C. Virginzana, is a beautiful vine about
which much lore and many pleasant things have been
written. Its white, slightly scented flowers are not
only attractive in summer, but they leave as a remem-
brance of them many seed vessels with fantastic
feathery styles, curious enough to look upon. The
foliage is well cut and attractive. The habit of this
vine is to form clumps and to intertwine in masses
on low walls. It is extremely hardy and can usually
be successfully transplanted frem its wild haunts to
the home grounds.

C. crispa, a native of the southern United States,
is not nearly so well known as the traveler’s joy. Its
fragrant, solitary, nodding flowers, crimped about
their edges like tissue paper and of an exquisite shade
of blue with silver sheen, are infinitely lovely. This
vine grows best in somewhat low, wet ground, con-
ditions which seldom prevail by the sides of porches

[92]

HiVd Ga)dd-xXOd V AXN OhLWTd

CONCERNING VINES

and trellises. I have never seen it in a seaside garden,
yet it seems that there are many that might afford it
an opportunity to show its beauty. The blossom
follows along with the June pageant.

The flowers of the perennial pea, Lathyrus latifolius,
are unlike those of the annual sweet pea because
they are produced in clusters, are without fragrance,
and are restricted in color to white and shades of pink
and carmine. They occur in July and August. The
plant is an attractive climber for many places. It
reaches a maximum height of eight feet.

There are those who, in garden building, like the
well-tried, the renownedly hardy, and reliable plants
to fill their spaces and to entwine about their homes;
and there are those who seek ever some rarity, some
plant difficult to acclimatize, which requires untold
effort to make it grow and bloom. In such experi-
mental work, there is much pleasure and often keen
surprise at the way plants, strange to their surround-
ings, will go through a reconstructive process to
accommodate themselves to their new conditions.
The plant lover delights to observe the success or
failure of his imported treasures. It becomes the
most poignant interest of his life. The Japanese, as a
nation, understand better than any other people the
benefits humanity may gain from a close association
with growing plants.

Near many seaside gardens, the American bitter-
sweet, or staff vine, Celastrus scandens, can be used to
cover rough roadside walls. At several places I have
seen it employed thus most charmingly. In the last

[ 93 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

days of the autumn, its red and yellow fruit appears
in tune with the changed coloring of nature’s whole
world, and earlier in the season its compact foliage
gives a sense of coolness and strength. The bitter-
sweet likes a somewhat harsh climate, and for this
reason it seems feasible to give it a trial in suitable
spots not far distant from the rush and the roar of
the sea. Planted over a wall alternately with Clematis
Virginiana, the impression of nature’s handiwork is
given.

The poison ivy, Rhus radicans, is the vine of vines
to spy out and to excommunicate from contact with
the home grounds and garden. It is truly a beauty
in the autumn, but often remarkably mischievous.
To walk about one’s home with a friend not immune
to its evil ways, and to have him show later the effects
of such a stroll by a swollen face and half-closed eyes,
is to put one’s hospitality in question. The vine need
not, however, be torn from the fences of pasture lands,
as horses and other animals eat its foliage without
harmful results.

That vines are as essential to the home grounds
as trees and shrubs has already been asserted, and
also that it is necessary for each planter by the sea to
ascertain his need regarding this class of plants. The
list of hardy vines is one to which new members are
not infrequently added. The pergola, seen so often
now in comparison with a few years ago, has, moreover,
made the study of vines a thing of much importance.

As the benefits of out-of-door life have been realized,
so people have come to appreciate that the garden

[ 94 ]

CONCERNING VINES

without a seat or resting place replete with shade
lacks one of its possible pleasures. For the home
grounds and garden should not represent merely places
of brilliant ornamentation, but should be made livable,
cool, and inviting during the warm months of summer.
Shade of the right quality is essential to comfort. It
should not be too dense, nor should it be too open to
the burning rays of the sun. It should be a gentle
screen, somewhat like a shadow.

The suppleness of vines places them in a class by
themselves, and gives opportunity for their employ-
ment in a way that would be impossible with other
kinds of plants. Nature, in her wild ways, uses vines
in plenty, spying out with striking accuracy the ugly,
barren places that they can so amply beautify. Thou-
sands of stems of trees have been held prominently
on a landscape by the Virginia creeper, making all
forget that it climbed unfalteringly on dead things,
long past their usefulness.

In garden building and in nature’s undisciplined
domain, ugliness can be eliminated by the persistent
clinging of a vine.

[95]

CHAPTER IX

A FEW WORDS ABOUT STANDARDS

T is in the formal garden that the standard has
its true place, and the purpose to give accentua-

tion to carefully devised outlines. Pride, more-
over, has entered into the cultivation of standards.
To be able to have them live and bloom about the home
is the chief desire of many flower lovers. This fact
denotes appreciation of skill in the treatment of plants
and illustrates the pleasure that things a little out of
the ordinary are apt to give.

The bleak seaside garden is not always a sym-
pathetic home for standards, as the moods of the
sea are not tempered to suit plants diverted from
their natural ways of growth. At the same time,
many beautiful standards are to be seen in gardens
approaching the sea. But before standards are
accepted for such gardens, the surrounding conditions
should be weighed and some thought given to the
care and labor involved in growing them success-
fully.

The rose is the most wished for of all plants as
a standard, and particularly so in gardens devoted
exclusively to these flowers. To walk through a
rosarium and to be able to stoop slightly and to bury

one’s nose in a huge bouquet of fragrant roses is a
[96]

NOGUVY INAIVS GTO NV NI VREVGST A IAXX WLW Td

FEW WORDS ABOUT STANDARDS

pleasure not experienced every day. The ornamental
value of standard roses is inestimable.

During the last few years, growers have made use
of a hardier stock for budding than formerly, which
fact, with an accumulation of experience, has greatly
lessened the problematic character of the tree rose.
To-day such well-known roses as Paul Neyron, Mrs.
John Laing, Margaret Dickson, La France, General
Jacqueminot, Ulrich Brunner, Madame Caroline Test-
out, Belle Siebrecht, Frau Karl Druschki, the Maman
cochets, American beauty, and many others are recom-
mended as standards likely to give satisfactory results.
That they demand much petting, protection, and fer-
tilization is true, but in return they are very generous.

In the gardens of Long Island, the New Jersey
coast, and those along the Sound, there are many
examples of thrifty rose trees. Wind is their enemy.
The place selected for them should, therefore, be one
well shielded from high gales by either natural or arti-
ficial breaks.

Standard peonies have an aristocratic, altogether
charming look, when covered with ‘their gorgeous,
often slightly fragrant flowers. Many of the old,
well-known varieties are grown in this way, which
for a space of several weeks in the spring shows
the flowers to extreme advantage. To uphold the
approaches to beds of flowers, or to accentuate entrances
into formal rose gardens, they are very desirable,
especially if, in the latter case, their passing is marked
by the blossoming of rose trees. Although the appear-
ance of the peony is bolder and more pronounced than

[97]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

that of the rose, its colors are soft and very delicate.
The two plants, however, are not long in bloom
at the same time, the peony acting as a forerunner of
the rose.

The various forms of standard azaleas are almost
as beautiful as tree roses and peonies. They are
fairly hardy and very lovely for formal effects in early
spring.

The rose of Sharon is also much seen in tree form.
In one large seaside garden, I noticed many such
standards showing the blue flowers that are among
recent novelties. They did not appeal to me as
especially pretty, perhaps because the garden was
very large and somewhat heterogeneously planted.
The colors were wild and flamboyant where I first
saw the blue rose of Sharon. Nevertheless, I can
imagine them in a garden where blue coloring pre-
vailed and where the sea and the skyline were not
lost sight of in high, scraggly growth. But blue seems
as strange to the roses of Sharon as it does to the
hydrangeas, and I cannot think it an improvement
on the spotless white or the warm rose tints that nature
gave these flowers.

Among the snowballs, there are varieties.grown in
standard form which appear very beautiful when
laden with their heavy heads of flowers. In fact,
the rounded grace of these flower heads takes away
from the rather stilted look of the shrub when grown
as a standard, and makes it particularly pleasing for
many formal effects. In a certain garden unusually
near the sea are three standard snowballs which have

[ 98 ]

FEW WORDS ABOUT STANDARDS

proved extremely hardy, never disappointing in their
bloom. The flowers open, however, about ten days
later in the year than those of their relatives growing
in the regular way. This is no disadvantage, but,
on the contrary, lengthens the snowball season.

Last year a neighbor’s boy so keenly appreciated
the beauty of these snowballs that, in the pink of
dawn when the robins first chirruped, he crept from
his bed, stole out of the house, across the lawn, and
plucked them one by one. He did it hastily and with
great damage to the symmetrical form of the tree.
It was a melancholy day for the owner of the standard
who had tended it well, and I have even heard that it
ended sadly for the boy, although I did not penetrate
into the details of his grief.

Hydrangea paniculata takes the tree form well
and appears very striking’ and massive. It is the
most worthy of all standards for autumn effects.
Through its extreme hardiness, it can be planted with
almost the surety of steady growth and long life. It
faces the sea dauntlessly. In the formal and also in
the wild garden, it is an attractive member, in the
latter case defining outlines wey might otherwise
appear too vague.

One of the most charming standards to plant near
the sea is the tamarix. Its pastel pink flowers identify
themselves with the early season, while long after they
have passed, the asparagus-like foliage gives lightness
and beauty to the scene.

Standards have a place not only in the garden,
but on the lawn, where almost invariably they give

[ 99 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

an air of elegance and detail to the surrounding
planting.

Among the bedding plants, the heliotrope and
fuchsia seem to be the ones in present favor to use as
standards. Naturally, they are only serviceable to
those who have glass houses in which to keep them
over the winter. When set out in the spring, however,
the amount of rough weather they can withstand is
astonishing. The heliotrope, especially, thrives lustily
very near the sea.

In Commodore Benedict’s garden at Indian Harbor,
Connecticut, the standard heliotropes form a conspicu-
ous feature. There they grow very closely to the
sea, yet in a spot considerably elevated from the edge
of the water. The house shelters this garden on two
sides from the wind; and, much to the liking of the
heliotrope standards, the sun shines upon them with
great intensity, giving them the inspiration requisite
to their growth.

Fuchsias also can stand rough weather, provided
the sunshine is abundant. They make stately little
standards of very formal appearance. Their colors
and the pendulous grace of the flowers are without
flaws. I find them, nevertheless, lacking in charm,
although it is difficult to say what is absent.

It seems to me the worst possible taste to plant
standard heliotropes at points of accentuation through
beds of petunias. Yet I have seen it done on more
than one important estate, where the gardens, on the
whole, denoted much taste and skill. I could only
believe that the head gardeners were guided by certain

[ 100 ]

OLD WISTARIA VINE

AN

PLATE XXVII

FEW WORDS ABOUT STANDARDS

traditions or hidden reasons of their own in making
so hideous a combination.

The tree most used as a standard is naturally
Catalpa Bunget (page 33). It looks well in many
places, especially in formal gardens suggested by
those of Italy.

[101]

CHAPTER X .

THE PLACING OF THE GARDEN

N the mind of every one enchanted with out-of-
| door life there exists an ideal of a garden, an
individual conception of what it should be. In
various places and at different times, particular types
of gardens have prevailed, each claiming its admirers.
The story of the birth and employment of various
styles of gardens would in itself fill a volume.

To-day, more than ever before, the garden builder
acts as a free lance, since he is able to plant, without
discord with time and custom, the very garden that
suits him best. To please one’s fancy in a garden is
the privilege of the day and of the builder.

But before the character of the garden is decided
upon, the place of its setting should be most carefully
considered. It is but few among many who control
more than a limited amount of the surface of the earth,
and always a goodly part of this individual possession
must be given over to the necessary engineering features
of a place. It is not implied that only left-over space
should be regarded as available for a garden, but
rather that one cannot be fully enjoyed if the real
utilitarian things and comforts of the place have been
sacrificed to its prominence.

About every home it should be an object to devise
[ 102 ]

PLACING OF THE GARDEN

some particular landscape picture as broad and com-
prehensive as permissible under surrounding conditions.
The foreground, middle distance, and background of
this picture should be held in their proper relation,
one which may even be accentuated at times by judi-
cious planting. Instances are frequent in which, as a
means of depriving the picture of abruptness, the
middle distance of a landscape has apparently been
lifted up to meet the background by the planting of
groups of tall, slender trees.

As soon as the topography of a place is established,
its decoration may be begun conscientiously, the
garden giving to the whole the final, exquisite touch.

The success of a garden depends, to a greater
extent than is generally believed, upon its placing.
At seaside homes, one must remember to build it as
far back from the water as necessary, and to give it
the needed protection by means of a break, which may
become an artistic feature. It is also well to decide
definitely the interior plan before beginning any work.

A southern exposure is undoubtedly of advantage
to a garden, and when this fact is remembered at the
time of the building of the house, there is usually no
reason why it cannot be given this situation. In
many cases, however, where ground is limited the
garden must simply be placed where there is room for
it, without choice or consideration.

The ideal garden should give a sense of seclusion.
It should have the charm of privacy and be held aloof
from the lawn, the driveways, and other features of
a place. For when one enters a garden, its inherent

[ 103 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

qualities should be sufficient to make one forget the
outside world, — other forms of life and other pleasures
than those which lurk in its bursting buds and unfolding
leaves.

At the present time, there seems to be a return to
favor of small gardens placed near the house, and with
several styles of architecture now in vogue such a
situation for them is entirely practical. They should,
however, be constructed in conjunction with the house,
that a certain sense of proportion may be established.
A small garden, not adjacent with, but somewhat
apart from, the house is seldom an artistic success.
It might better be moved to a spot more isolated.
But a small garden built as a feature of a house, almost
as a room out-of-doors, affords an opportunity for
intimate knowledge of its life such as is not always
enjoyed when it is placed farther away.

It is from the veranda of Commodore Benedict’s
house at Indian Harbor that one steps into the formal
garden shown in plate xxx. A closer relation between
house and garden is hardly imaginable. In truth,
this garden saves the house from appearing to stand
too abruptly on the sea. In this particular spot,
only a formal garden would be appropriate. Its trees
and shrubs appear to live contentedly very near the
water. The flowers, that here produce bold masses of
color, are mostly bedding plants, begonias, geraniums,
dusty millers, verbenas, and standard heliotropes. In
the autumn the half-hardy hydrangeas are brought
into prominence.

In the very formality of this garden, there is a

[ 104 ]

oe

%
Eas

PLATE XXVIII ARCH OF VIRGINIA CREEPER

PLACING OF THE GARDEN

sense of restraint. It does not call forth the desire
for intimacy. It forms, nevertheless, a picture delight-
ful to the eye. If it were entirely without flowers,
its setting is still so pleasing that it would serve its
purpose and produce a feeling of repose in contrast
to the incessant motion of the water. In plan, this
garden is very simple.

Often the simpler the internal arrangement of a
formal garden, the more pleasure it gives. In such
instances, it is the plan as much as the planting that
strikes the eye and soothes the taste. In many of
the famous Italian gardens, flowers are conspicuously
absent, yet there are few other examples of planting
grounds that give the same restful sense of being at
peace with nature. At Bar Harbor, Newport, South-
ampton, and other places near the sea, there are many
formal and extensive gardens, while those in imitation
of the gardens of Italy have been handled most skil-
fully. It is not at every seaside home, however,
that there is opportunity for a really formal garden,
one stately and complete in outline.

More general by far than those purely formal are
the so-called old-fashioned gardens, placed to suit
the convenience and filled with hardy perennial plants.
Such gardens were the pride of the early settlers of
America. The New England colonists, especially,
brought with them to the New World the conception
of such flower gardens as then prevailed in the home
country. These gardens, while placed for the most
part at short distances from the houses, seldom
approached them closely. In arrangement they were

[105 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

often four-square, including many separate plots,
each one being in the form of a rectangle. These
plots, or beds, were frequently bordered with box,
while arches, seats, fountains, and sundials were features
looked upon with complete satisfaction. These early
American gardens were very homely and sweet, and
serve to-day as suggestions from which many modern
ones are planned.

The illustration in plate xxxii. is of an early Ameri-
can garden, and is notable because its form has not
been changed for over a hundred years. Many of the
plants within it are very old. Its masses are inter-
grown, often tangled. Yet this is not displeasing;
rather it seems to be a place of abundant offering,
rich in bloom and delicate foliage.

The pretty garden illustrated in plate xxxill. has
been placed directly at the back of a modern colonial
house, and is, if one might so describe it, an up-to-date
interpretation of an old-fashioned plan. Its flower
beds are fewer than in the old-time gardens, and box
plays no part as a border plant. This garden is, never-
theless, fairly well walled in by tall shrubs, in front of
which there is a hedge of low spruces. When one en-
ters the front door of this house, he has no suspicion
of the nearness of a garden. It is only after travers-
ing the central hallway and reaching the veranda
which extends across the back of the house that
this spot of enchantment is seen lying openly in
the sun. No corner of it then escapes the eye.
It is visible in its entirety, forming a pretty pic-
ture. The central water basin is planted with lilies,

[ 106 }

CLEMATIS PANICULATA AND NASTURTIUM

PLATE XXIX

VINE, MARBLEHEAD, MASS

PLACING OF THE GARDEN

among which gay gold fish appear to play a game
of tag.

A Salem garden, well over a hundred years old,
has, as can be seen in plate xxxiv., its boundaries well
defined by box. The entrance into it is made by means
of an arched gateway. In fact, the act of passing into
a garden through a gate has a pleasant moral effect.
It seems when the gate is opened as if one had at last
reached the desired destination; and when the click
of the gate is heard, the outside world seems to be left
behind. Only the garden then lies before one, in all
its sweetness and beauty.

Few modern gardens are entered by a gate, although
they are often led into by an arch.

I noticed that one seaside garden, generally admired
by passing visitors, is walled all the way around by a
high hedge of California privet, through which a number
of arches clipped from the hedge proper indicate the
way of entrance. Once within this garden, the impres-
sion produced by passing through an arch is prolonged
by others of light and graceful build standing at inter-
vals along the paths and at several of the cross-sections.
They are all covered with crimson rambler rose vines,
which in their season of bloom glorify all the surround-
ings. This garden, nevertheless, appeared to me as
one vast planting ground. I walked through it as
through a nursery. In vain I searched for a seat,
and when reluctantly I sank on a bit of turf, I felt
that there was altogether too little turf and too many
flowers. As a rule the grass plots of a garden should
predominate.

[107]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Still, there is much about this garden that is distinct-
ive. To my mind, however, it loses the high mark
it might have attained, by its defective setting. It
is too large to be so near the house. It appears to
bear down on this structure and to obliterate its
position of prominence. Undoubtedly, a garden should
not be very large when placed near a house of moderate
proportions, unless it can by its setting be so detached
that the house and surrounding grounds are only seen
as glimpses through some vista.

Often gardens that are a little elevated are saved
from unpleasant contrasts with the house by their
situation, one which must have been fostered in the
beginning by the surface of the earth. To take
advantage of slight elevations of grounds, or of certain
well-placed declivities, is sometimes the keynote of
placing a garden.

There is nothing out of the ordinary about a seaside
barn that I have observed frequently. Simply the
graciousness of the surrounding planting relieves it
from too great a plainness. It stands but a short dis-
tance back from the house, about which there is no
space available for a garden without encroaching upon
the lawn, a practise far from desirable. This par-
ticular bit of property is deep and narrow.

The path, that branches off from the main drive-
way and runs backward along the side of the barn,
leads to a garden deep in seclusion and effulgent in
beauty. The path itself presents a pleasant way,
being bordered with trees, shrubs, and quaint, well-
known flowers that give abundant fragrance. At the

[ 108 ]

PLACING OF THE GARDEN

end of the path, there lurks a surprise when the garden
comes into view. It is in no way formal, nor is it
naturalistic; it is a plain, convenient garden, very
sweet and appealing. The paths through it are of
turf and the flower beds are in the form of rectangles.
Those of the borders are about four feet wide, which is
regarded as a desirable width when they are open to
approach from one side only. When both sides can
be approached, such beds may be made possibly two
feet wider.

At the far end of this garden, a slightly raised
pergola gives it the appearance of meeting the back-
ground halfway, and affords, besides, a pleasant resting
place from which the whole planting ground may be
surveyed.

Without this garden of medium size, this country
home would possess small opportunity for life in the
open. The ground and lawn in front of the house are
necessarily formal and compact, and face, moreover, a
dusty road, while the space immediately back of the
house is taken up with the driveway, barn, drying
ground, and a number of well-selected trees and shrubs.
It is only the open space beyond that gives an oppor-
tunity to place a garden successfully. Here it is at
once a retreat and an outlet for the family.

The naturalistic garden should be kept as far away
from a house as possible. Its ideal situation is by
the edge of a woodland that acts as a boundary line
or background to an estate. It should not be tinged
with formality, but should appear as if planned and
strewn by nature when in a gay, decorative mood.

[109 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

In fact, before placing a naturalistic garden it is well
to look about in the surrounding country and notice
the soil and the position that is occupied by various
families of plants. It is often then not only possible,
but simple, to give those wildlings, about to live in
the garden, a similar food and housing. The more
attractive native plants that can be brought into such
a place, the nearer the fulfilment of the scheme.

The paths through a naturalistic garden should
invariably be of turf and circuitous in outline. Some
of the beds should be large enough to hold tall and bold
masses of plants acting as screens to other parts of
the garden. For it is not desirable to have a wild
garden come under view all at once, as is usually the
case with those that are formal. It should be, rather,
a series of surprises and appear as a cultivated bit of
the absolute wild. Invariably, it should be as isolated
from other forms of planting as possible. When once
well established, such a garden requires little care.

[110]

SUR LA MER, MARTHAS VINE

YARD, MASS

PLATE XXX

CHAPTER XI

BULBOUS PLANTS OF DIFFERENT SEASONS

massive blooms that cross the threshold of

spring, but rather the tremulous ones whose
air is that of having come from a fairy’s revel. Yet
these first comers that break through the crust of winter
are inwardly as stalwart as the flamboyant flowers
living under the midsummer sun.

In this chapter many plants are referred to under
the general heading of “bulbous plants,” but it is
not to be understood that each and every one of them
springs from a true bulb. They are, nevertheless, all
sold by bulb dealers, and are placed together here
more for convenience than to follow the dictates of
botanists. While to the mind of the latter, knowing
a crocus to come from a corm, it is an offense to hear
it spoken of as a bulb, the distinction is thought unneces-
sary by either the gardener or the dealer.

Gladioli are not produced by bulbs, although they
are advertised and bought as such. They have at
their base a corm. Many irises have rhizomes as their
seat of life, while the English and Spanish varieties
spring from bulbs. Neither these plants nor lilies
have been treated in this chapter because consider-
able space has been given to them elsewhere.

[111]

if is not the large and conspicuous plants with

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

The correct terms to apply to the rootstocks of
the so-called bulbous plants is a subject that is not
entered by the average planter, to whom it matters
little whether a begonia grows from a tuber or a bulb
so long as it makes his seaside garden beautiful.

In March, the snowdrops, undaunted by bleak
winds and violent weather, send forth their dainty,
pendulous flowers. At Babylon, Long Island, how-
ever, and at various places along the coast of New
Jersey, I have seen them in bloom on Washington’s
Birthday, and from then on they held their beauty in
spite of the snows of March. They clung snugly to
the ground and lifted their heads so slightly that it
seemed as hopeless to photograph them as a flight of
white moths. Their message, nevertheless, was clear.
Winter could not endure much longer; spring and the
flowers were determined to prevail.

It is the little single snowdrop, Galanthus nivalis,
that ventures to appear thus early. Its large, double-
flowered relative, G. Elwesii, a native of Asia Minor,
is quite two weeks behind it in unfolding its bloom.

The small snowdrops which, in late February, so
pleased my fancy were not planted in a garden, but
were scattered at random over a beautiful lawn. The
shrubs near them had scarcely begun to bud; the
deciduous trees were entirely destitute of leaves.
The evergreens alone seemed in harmony with these
earliest of flowers.

The lawn is, in fact, a most appropriate place to
plant snowdrops. In a large garden they would make
little effect, while rather accentuating the bareness

[112]

BULBOUS PLANTS

of the beds and borders. On the lawn they give thus
early the impression that nature has taken matters
in hand and that she alone is responsible for their
presence. Nevertheless, many people still cling to the
old custom of using them for the permanent edging
of garden beds and borders. Snowdrops, as well as
crocuses and squills, look especially well in front of
geometrically planned beds, and also in various borders
and places backed by evergreens.

The snowdrops delight in shade, and I have seen
extensive plantings of rhododendrons enlivened by the
presence of these fairy-like bells at their base, while their
broad, lustrous foliage still held the snows of winter.

Places of small area, moreover, where there is
limited lawn space, and where a crescent-shaped bed
or a hardy border is, perhaps, the principal abode of
flowers, would sadly miss these early visitors peeping
out shyly when all else is bare of leaf.

The snowdrops hold their bloom until the crocuses
have pierced the earth. From that time on they vanish
gradually.

The spring, or dwarf, snowflake, Leucojum vernum,
blossoms in the early spring, seeming almost as if it
would take the place of the fairy-like snowdrops.
One of its varieties, called carpathicum, is exceedingly
pretty, and tipped with yellow. The species estivum
grows taller and blooms a few weeks later than the
vernum, and is sometimes called the summer snow-
flake. The snowflakes add greatly to the witchery
of the border and are easily grown. Their bulbs
should be planted in the autumn.

[113 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Crocuses, which appear in early spring, not far
behind the snowdrops, have also become favorites to
plant in the grass of well-ordered lawns. They present
many varieties from which to choose, including those
of yellow, white, purple, blue, and differently striped
colors. It is the yellow ones, however, which show
the most cheery faces in the early season; and although
they are usually seen intermingled with those of various
colors, I have wondered whether the variety called
“giant yellow”? would not have given greater pleasure
if planted to the exclusion of all the others. When
planted on sloping banks, yellow crocuses seem to
rob the surrounding earth of all the harshness asso-
ciated with March.

Other delightful harbingers of spring, conspicuous
at the time of the crocuses, are the so-called scillas,
or squills. Of this group of bulbous plants the Siberian
squill, Scilla Sibirica, is the one generally recognized.
It is as hardy as the snowdrops and crocuses, its bulb
living in the ground for several years and sending up
flowers regularly with the call of spring. Intensely
blue in color, the beauty of the squill is accentuated
beside the pure white of the snowdrop and the cheery
yellow of the crocuses. These three plants form a gay
company, eager to welcome a rude and _ blustering
month, For March is their day; it is then that they
appear at their best. As soon as the warm days come,
they shrivel and disappear as swiftly as do the hepaticas
in the woods. The squills, however, outlive their
two early companions, often showing their bloom
beside that of the daffodils.

[114]

PLATE XXXI THE STANDARD CATALPAS AND HELIOTROPE
INDIAN HARBOR, CONN

BULBOUS PLANTS

For early flowers on lawns snowdrops, crocuses,
and Siberian squills are especially well adapted, because
their flower and even their foliage dies down to the
bulb before it is time to mow the grass. They are,
besides, sufficiently pretty to appear as the young
bloom of the grass. A show of more conspicuous
flowers on a lawn is undesirable.

Before the golden bells unfold; before the blossoms
burst from the wood of the red maples; before the twigs
on the shrubs are tinged with color, snowdrops, crocuses,
and squills have ventured to cross the threshold of
spring. The alder in wild places then showers pollen
from its fringelike catkins; the skunk cabbage is awake
in the moist country, and pussy willows can be found
by those who seek them. In spots of the woods where
the sun steals and lingers, hepaticas show themselves
wrapped in their silky fuzz. The grass about the bases
of the trees has turned to shades of emerald green;
the arbutus has formed its buds. Too quickly then
pass these days of high hopes and expectancy.
Suddenly, with a warm, swift touch, spring fully awakes.
Myriads of tiny leaves unfold; color appears in every
twig and branch. April creeps in enlivened by daffo-
dils, hyacinths, tulips, and the blossom of numbers of
flowering shrubs.

Daffodils or Narcissi next become the reigning
beauties of many formal gardens, while in naturalistic
places they are invariably a delight to the eye. They
are, besides, practical plants, since once well established
they live for years and increase rapidly. They have not,
like the crocuses, the habit of running out or of becom-

[115]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

ing exhausted after a few seasons of bloom. When
planted closely together in a garden, daffodils soon
become overcrowded and should be divided and reset
about every three years.

In both the formal and the naturalistic garden,
daffodils look best when each variety is planted sepa-
rately either in large masses or in small clumps.
Groups of daffodils among the herbaceous plants of
a garden are charming, and when planted in front of
shrubbery, they seem to possess a particularly elfin
grace.

In using daffodils at seashore places, care must
be taken to guard them from the wind, an element of
which they are not fond. But, with the exception
of the Polyanthus narcissus, they are perfectly hardy
and grow ruggedly in almost any soil, although their
preference is for one somewhat stiff in texture. It is
a mistake to think that the trumpet daffodils cannot
be naturalized as far north as the New England coast.

The popular classification of daffodils divides them
into three classes: the large crown, or those which show
their central tubes or crowns about as long as the
segments of their perianths, and which are true daffodils
or Lent lilies; the medium crowns, with central tubes
about half as long as the perianth segments; and the
small crowns, or those with flat, saucer shaped tubes.
This classification, however, is much broken into by
such hybrid groups as Leedsit, Barrit, Humei, and others,
and is likely to become, in the future, even more
difficult to follow than it is at present, since the hybrid-
ization of daffodils is pursued most actively.

[116 ]

BULBOUS PLANTS

Among the large crowns, or trumpet daffodils,
few are more satisfactory than the maximus, which
very early in the season shows its deep, golden yellow
bloom fringed about the edges. The Emperor is an
excellent variety, familiar to all; as is also the Empress,
with its yellow crown and white perianth segment.
The Horsfieldi is also an excellent variety of the bicolor
group. Glory of Leiden sends out flowers of clearest
yellow and is conspicuous for its unusual size. The
famous old Von Sion bears a double trumpet, as does
also the Capaz plenus.

Among daffodils of medium crowns are found the
Barruw conspicuus, with an orange scarlet ring around
its yellow crown; Narcissus incomparabilis, bearing
its flowers early in the season; the Leedsii; the orange
Phoenix with double chalice, called unromantically
eggs and bacon, on account of its white and deep orange
coloring, and the double “butter and eggs,’’ showing
orange colored crowns and yellow perianth segments.

N. poeticus, or the pheasant’s eye narcissus, is
one of the best beloved of the family. It belongs
to the class of small crowns. Scattered in the grass,
along rustic walks, in spaces by trees and shrubs, and
for delicate mass effect in the formal or unpretentious
garden, it is always lovely. Poeticus ornatus blooms
earlier than this type and has larger flowers.

The jonquils, which are closely related to the daffo-
dils, are equally graceful plants and deliciously fragrant.
Among them the Campernelle and the Odorous rugulosus
are attractive varieties.

With the spring pageant of bulbous plants the

[117 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Hyacinths pass in their many soft colors and fan-
tastic forms, sending forth their seductive though
somewhat heavy scent. They occur in blue, red,
white, and yellow, and in intermediate shades, which
show the intermingling of the innumerable varieties
that have been produced from the original Hyacinthus
orientalis.

L’innocence is one of the white hyacinths with sin-
gle large flowers that open at the time of the daffodils.
La Peyrouse is charming in its tones of light porcelain
blue, and is adapted for planting in bold masses in
the grass. The variety called “Charles Dickens”
shows one form in an enchanting shade of salmon
rose which is seen early.

It is a point of vantage, however, to select hyacinths
of pure color rather than those that are indefinite in
tone. A pure deep blue hyacinth is infinitely more
pleasing than one of bluish white or even one of lavender.
In early spring many charming pictures are made up
of these flowers in clear, different colors all lifted to
about the same height. If planted in succession,
hyacinths can be kept from passing before the last
of May. As a rule, I prefer them in formal parks
rather than about the home grounds.

Hyacinths which bloom simultaneously should have
their bulbs set at the same depth from the level of
the ground. Usually about six inches is given to the
bottom of the bulb. Otherwise, they will not all
bloom together. In order to bring late-blooming
varieties into flower with those of earlier habit, the
bulbs of the former should be set less deeply in the

[118 ]

ARDEN

AMERICAN G

CARLY

AN

PLATE XXNXIL

BULBOUS PLANTS

ground than those of the latter. This practise is also
followed with tulips.

October is naturally the time to plant hyacinth,
as well as many other bulbs. These bulbs like a light
soil and much sunlight. In seashore gardens, the
soil is not often heavy, but, if for special reasons this
should be the case, it can be lightened by mixing
considerable sand through it when the beds are pre-
pared. Expert gardeners, moreover, usually hold a
handful of sand about a bulb, no matter what kind it
is, at the time that it is set in the earth. Good drainage
is thus secured and the bulb is protected from contact
with manure. In exposed positions by the sea, bulbs
should be covered in early winter, after the ground
has frozen, with a few inches of coarse manure and
litter.

The single hyacinths are now almost universally
thought more attractive than the double ones. Some-
times they are even seen planted through the grass
in a naturalistic way. There is, however, something
about the appearance of hyacinths that demands the
setting of a garden, or at least of a formal bed. There
is so little that is unconventional in their appearance,
their look is so formal, that it seems as if the way
should be cleared for their coming.

_ Hyacinthus candicans might in truth be called

the giant of the family, since its spikes of bloom are

frequently three feet high and crowned with well-

formed, waxen-white flowers, suggesting inverted cro-

cuses. This tall hyacinth, however, has no opportunity

to look down upon its shorter relatives, for they have
[119 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

all had their day long before it opens its flowers. It
is a plant of midsummer and early autumn, its bold,
distinctive presence giving character to many places
in a garden. It can stand cold situations so long as
they are exposed to the sun. Through the cool days
of the autumn it holds itself proudly, although, unlike
the more delicate appearing members of its race, it
has not the courage to test the uncertain weather of
the early spring.

The pretty little grape hyacinths, of which Muscari
Botryoides, showing purple flowers, is commonly seen,
are particularly hardy bulbous plants, doing well in
almost any soils and situation. They are useful in
many garden borders and equally attractive to scatter
in short grass, where they cleverly hide the fact that
they are foreigners to the soil. They sink so snugly
into the grass and illumine it so completely with their
prim pert-looking bloom that they generally give the
impression that they are true plants of the wild.

Muscari Botryoides alba is the white companion
of the purple variety, and M. commutatum bears a
pure, dark blue flower. There are also other varieties
of merit. The grape hyacinths come at a time when
shrubs and trees are still suspicious of the spring and
loth to wear its clothing.

A spring garden can hardly be imagined without
numbers of tulips, chaste and exquisite among the
early flowers. In outline they are very simple, and in
color exceedingly pure. They suggest neither subtlety
nor complexity.

Tulips are especially valuable in borders and beds

[ 120 ]

BULBOUS PLANTS

where strong color effect is desired. For, in truth, they
show uncompromising color, unsoftened by much
foliage. Many gardeners delight to form conventional
beds of tulips in the three distinct colors of red, white,
and yellow. The most beautiful of such beds that
I have seen, however, were those of only two colors, —
yellow and white. The yellow ones were planted to
meet the green of the grass, while the white ones held
the central, slightly elevated position of the bed.
From a distance this arrangement appeared like some
mammoth white flowers deepening to yellow at its
edges. In the garden, it is usually a better plan to
keep the variously colored tulips apart in masses rather
than to intersperse them.

As a rule, tulip bulbs should be planted four inches
deep and about five inches apart. They will live in
the ground year after year provided their foliage is
allowed to ripen before it is cut down. Every third
year they should be taken up and divided and their
bed made over before they are reset.

The earliest of all tulips to bloom is the Duc van
Thols, of which variety there is one of most brilliant
red. They are dwarf in habit, a point which must not
be forgotten if they are to be used with others for early
spring decoration. The Duc van Thols is followed
by many varieties of early Dutch tulips, after which
the Darwin and Cottage varieties unfold in numbers.

Gesnertana is one of the most showy of the species
of tulips; and the varieties of Parrot tulips bloom after
all the others have faded. These latter, which prefer
sunny exposures, are most picturesque and unusual.

[121 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

With their feathered edges and many colors they form
groups in the garden not easily forgotten.

An effective border for spring bloom can be made
by placing German irises at its back and filling in the
front spaces with clumps of hyacinths and _ tulips,
each variety reigning over its own little kingdom.
The whole border can then be edged with squills,
crocuses, and snowdrops, extending into the grass.
By such an arrangement abundant bloom is provided
from the beginning until the end of spring.

Bulbous plants should hold special places in every
attractive garden. They produce their radiant flowers
before either annuals or perennials have waked to
their duty in life. By their employment the garden
may truly blossom from the first peep of the snow-
drops in February until the end of May, when the
lingering tulip droops its head.

As the yellow bells lead the shrubs into bloom,
the daffodils are gay in the garden; the fire bush projects
its blossoms while the early red tulips are full of life;
and as the soft tints of the lilacs are seen, the hyacinths
make the earth more fair.

It is unfortunate that many seaside dwellers do
not go to their summer homes until the early spring
shrubs and flowers have passed their beauty. I have
many friends who never see the snowdrops, crocuses,
and squills, the narcissi, hyacinths, and tulips that
beautify their own grounds and gardens. Owing to
the convenience of motor cars, however, people are
now inclined to remain later each autumn in their homes
by the sea, and to return to them earlier each spring.

[ 122 ]

WITH CENTRAL WATER BASIN

GARDEN

PLATE XXNIII

BULBOUS PLANTS

Late April, even, would be a melancholy time in the
garden without the bulbous plants.

A curious dwarf plant that greets the spring is
the guinea-hen flower, Fritillaria meleagris. Its large
flowers hang on the stems like broad, open bells and
are mottled not unlike guinea hens, although their
colors are more varied and cheerful. These bulbs are
quite hardy in seaside gardens, doing best in rich
soil. Customarily they are planted about four inches
deep in the ground.

The most stately of the Fritillarias is the crown
imperial, F. imperialis, with its bold handsome look
of a tropical plant. The early spring sees these flowers
produce most startling effects, since they have the pro-
nounced beauty of midsummer rather than the tender
grace of the early months. There are now many new
varieties of Fritillarias brighter in hue than the old
dull red one. Among them vivid crimsons and bright
yellows are especially pronounced.

In English gardens, Fritillarias are used in goodly
numbers in the central positions of beds filled with
other bulbous plants identified with spring bloom.
I have seen them there also planted in dark, cool
spots where their flowers showed to great advantage.
All of the Fritillarias are exceedingly graceful. It is
a matter for regret, however, that they seem to be
much less cared for than the majority of bulbous
plants.

Gladioli are bulbous plants none the less important
because they wait until late July and August before
showing their flowers. They are, however, not alto-

[123 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

gether hardy, being classed with bedding plants.
Their corms will not live in the ground over the winter,
but must be taken up in the late autumn after their
foliage has been nipped and ripened by the frost, dried
thoroughly, and stored in a cool place free from moist-
ure. In the following spring, they can be again planted
with the expectation of a wealth of bloom.

Tigridias, which flower profusely, although for a
short period, through the summer, should also have
their bulbs planted in the spring when the danger of
frost is past.

So conspicuous is the summer blossom of the gladioli
in every garden of note that it would now be difficult
to place them satisfactorily with other plants. They
occur in many varied and exquisite colors. Through
hybridization they have of late been improved wonder-
fully. The size and depth of the individual flowers
is extraordinary and their texture suggests velvet.

The practise of planting gladioli through gardens
and beds composed of June roses has spread widely,
probably because their bulbs are small and do not take
the nourishment of the soil away from the roses, and
also because they enliven such places after the roses
have faded. I have seen most extensive plantings of
roses and gladioli together near the sea. The so-called
June roses, however, do not all pass with the last day
of the month. Many of them bloom until late in the
season, and when the bloom of the rose and that of
the gladiolus are seen at the same time, they seem to
me not altogether congenial companions.

I like far better to see gladioli among the irises

[124]

CLLVD VO TIDOOUELE ChVING ST GLONVQRLNOD NV ORTCEEEAL AIXNXN ¢

BULBOUS PLANTS

that live in rich dry soil. They blossom after the
irises, and therefore give continuity to the planting.
There is, moreover, complete harmony between the
foliage of the irises and the gladioli, which cannot be
said when they are used in connection with roses.

But, in the majority of cases, it is individual taste
that governs their planting ground, and wherever
gorgeous rich bloom is desired at a time when other
flowers are scarce in the garden, gladioli should be
encouraged.

There is one bulbous plant which bears the same
relation to the autumn that the crocus holds to the
spring. Colchicum autumnale, the meadow saffron, or
more commonly and erroneously called the autumn
crocus, is preéminently lovely. It looks like a very
large crocus, delicately rose lavender in hue. It stands
two or three inches above the ground, and is not seen
alone, but in groups of five or six flowers, entirely
without foliage. This is because the bulb makes its
lance-shaped leaf growth in the spring and early sum-
mer, showing with it the seed pod of the preceding
year. The meadow saffron, therefore, should always
be planted in places where the grass need not be cut
until after this growth has died down to the ground.

The meadow saffron forms enchanting little colonies
in the grass of borders, which in turn provides it with
a gracious green background. If planted in beds, it
is apt to look shorn of its natural belongings, with only
the bare earth to offset its delicate color. It requires
a rich soil.

In England, several varieties of Colchicums are

[125 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

features of gardens in the autumn. In this country,
the meadow saffron is the one that is mostly seen,
becoming better known each year. In the middle
eighteenth century, however, it was used in the gardens
of the Massachusetts coast.

[126]

CHAPTER XII

THE PLANTING OF THE SPRING AND SUMMER

NCE the garden is placed and its internal
arrangement is settled, the question as to
its planting naturally arises. In the spring,

the desire to plant the green things of the earth is
undoubtedly keener than at any other time of the
year; and it is then that the greater number of new
gardens are started, and old ones replenished. As
soon as the frost has left the ground, even the most
laggard spirits feel the impetus to sow seeds rich in
their promise of flowers, and to keep pace with the
unfolding buds and leaves.

Gardeners then busy themselves in setting out pan-
sies and such plants as they have forced under glass,
that there may be an early show of bloom. They are
not content to trust their gardens entirely to the beauty
of early bulbous plants. In fact, unless some thought
for the spring has been taken, by way of sowing seeds
and planting bulbs during the preceding autumn, the
month of April and the greater part of May must pass
before any reward can be expected from the planting
done in the spring.

A new garden made entirely in the spring will
assuredly not glow with beauty the first season. As
with all desirable things, plants take time to reach

[127]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

perfection. There are identified with the planting
of spring and summer, however, many plants which,
if set in the ground at these seasons, at once accom-
modate themselves to the soil and begin to grow
vigorously.

Among the trees, there are those that stand a much
better chance of success if planted or moved in the
spring than at other times of the year. The Japanese
maples, flowering cherries, magnolias, sweet gums,
the oaks, the beeches, and the birches — all desirable
trees to plant outside a seashore garden — are among
those that, unless attended by unusually favorable
circumstances, have uncertain chances of establishing
themselves well if planted at any other time than in
the spring.

In places where intense summer heat and a pro-
longed drought are habitual, the conditions governing
the planting seasons are naturally so altered that this
practise must frequently be changed. Im fact, climate
and situation must always be regarded as the great
modifier of planting rules. There comes into play,
besides, the proverbial luck of certain individuals who
appear to be able to put a stick into the ground at
any time of the year and to see it blossom like the
rose.

Similarly with trees, success is more easily attained
with certain shrubs that do well at the seashore if they
are planted in the spring rather than in the autumn.
Weigelias, snowballs, roses of Sharon, deutzias, azaleas,
and ever-blooming roses are customarily reserved for
spring planting.

[ 128 ]

ANVIN SO NGCUUVD V

PLANTING

The box, Buzus sempervirens, generally used as
an edging plant for formal gardens, is apt to give
the best and quickest results if planted in the spring.
This is good news to those starting a garden where
much depends on getting the outlines of the beds and
borders well defined, a purpose for which this evergreen
plant is without a rival.

When the thought of building a garden in the spring
is presented, the mind naturally turns first to the seeds
that should then be sown. The spring seems to be the
natural time to sow seeds, as the autumn is the time to
reap their produce.

The amateur gardener is often surprised at the
amount of time consumed by spring-sown, annual
seeds in germinating and developing their flowers. A
young lady who sowed sweet peas ardently during the
last week in March was more than amazed and even
piqued on learning that it would be near the last of
June before she could gather bouquets from the vines.
She had sown in early spring and she wished for a
spring result.

It is because of the length of time it necessarily
takes for annual seeds to grow and to bloom, and also
because of the long time most perennials require to
come into flower, that it is so essential to have the
garden made gay in early spring with bulbous plants
that have been set in the ground the preceding autumn.

Many hardy annuals are particularly useful to
garden builders. They require merely to be sown in
late April or May, according to the season, and when
there is no longer any doubt that the frost has left

[ 129 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

the ground. Among them are those which, like sweet
alyssum, Shirley poppies, candytuft, mignonette, portu-
lacca, and others, do not require to be transplanted,
but can be sown in the open ground where they are
to remain. Usually, then, such seeds are sown again
at intervals of from two to four weeks, so that their
flowers may be had in succession.

All annuals, especially those that are half hardy,
can be hastened into bloom by sowing their seeds
early in a hot bed, greenhouse, or even in a shallow
box placed on a warm, sunny window. Boxes from
two to three inches deep and filled with fine, sandy
loam make excellent homes for young sprouting seeds.

Newly sown seeds require plenty of air and moisture.
Too vigorous and frequent watering, however, causes
them, in the words of gardeners, to “damp off.”
Small seeds, moreover, should always be watered with
a fine rose sprayer. When well out of the seed leaf,
they should be transplanted into other boxes or pots
and then allowed to grow until sufficiently strong to
plant in the open ground. After this final transplant-
ing, they require to be well watered and cultivated
and have their beds kept free from weeds. In general,
seedlings that have been transplanted are more vigor-
ous and more able to resist a prolonged drought than
those that have reached maturity in the same places in
which they have been sown.

Although all hardy and half-hardy seeds are
hastened into bloom by sowing them early under cover,
it is also quite feasible to wait until the soil is warm and
then to sow them in the open garden. Their flowers

[ 130 ]

PLANTING

will merely appear later than if their seeds had been
started earlier in the season. No one need give up
raising flowers from seeds because one possesses neither
a hot bed nor a greenhouse in which to start them.

Annuals should have a place in every garden, for
among them there are some of the loveliest flowers,
vividly brilliant and of high decorative value. They
are not to be discarded because they die completely
at the end of one season. They are worth sowing and
tending each year.

In a young garden where the perennials have not
been long established, annuals are of the greatest value
in filling up the gaps that must otherwise occur the
first season. But as the perennials grow and increase,
it often becomes a necessity to assign the annuals to
a place by themselves, in order that the cultivation
and disturbance of the soil, which must take place
from time to time for their benefit, may not interfere
with the roots of the perennials already in the ground.

There is little spring planting, perhaps, that can be
done with the thought of the coming season alone.
The fact that one year surely follows another must
help the imagination to picture perennials grown large
and run together, forming solid masses.

Some annuals, such as poppies, portulacca, and
bachelor’s buttons, which may have been used to
accelerate the bloom of a garden while the perennials
were becoming established, are often found to sow
themselves so abundantly that there is no need to plant
them after the first year. Very often it is difficult to
dislodge them from the soil originally allotted to them.

[131]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Portulacca, gay and cheery among the low-growing
annuals, should not be sown until near the first of
June, as a good deal of heat is needed to germinate its
tiny, silverlike seeds. They do not need to be covered
with soil, but merely to be pressed into the earth
with a flat board or the palm of the hand to prevent
their becoming dry before their roots take hold of the
soil. Hardly another garden annual shows such fear-
lessness of the sea as the bright-flowered, indomitable
portulacca. The sandier and sunnier a spot the more
abundantly it throws out its blossoms, laughing in
the face of droughts, caring not for the closeness of
the sea. A sandy beach is a fit home for portulacca
so long as it is out of reach of the tide. To garden
builders by the sea it is of great value, since it will
flourish in places where no other plant will grow.

As a low edging plant about beds and borders it
has a distinct use, ranking almost with a perennial
from its habit of resowing itself generously. Not-
withstanding all its good qualities, it must be treated
with discretion, since, like its plebeian relative, pusley,
it will not take the hint to leave a place when its
presence is no longer wanted. At a place on Long
Island where portulacca was generously sown in the
days when the garden was young, it grew and bloomed,
it seemed to me, as nowhere else under the sun. Then
came a reversal of feeling. The mistress of the garden
wished to root it up and establish in its place a high-
class edging plant, Alyssum sazatile, or gold dust, a
perennial bearing myriads of bright yellow flowers.
She wished for the early bloom and grayish green

[132]

PLATE XXXVI CROCUSES

PLANTING

foliage of gold dust, as the whole color scheme
of the garden was to be simplified. The tussle with
portulacca began. Each succeeding year it peeped
up through the earth, showing its pluri-colored blooms
in spite of digging, spading, and making the bed entirely
over. In the end, the human force used against it
accomplished its destruction, although it undoubtedly
would have ousted gold dust if the latter had not been
so strongly reénforced.

What, indeed, cannot be done with poppies? The
annual varieties are simple to handle because they can
develop fully in the same places that they are sown;
and, although their long tap root is reputed to render
them difficult to transplant, it can, nevertheless, be
done readily, provided enough earth is taken up at
the same time with the plants.

To sow annual poppies in the beds and borders
early in the spring is to pave the way for an abundance
of dainty,sparkling bloom. Through the grass of pasture
lands they can be scattered and also in grain fields
after the manner in which they are seen growing in
England. Not many fields of grain, however, wave
near seaside gardens. In the ubiquitous vegetable
garden, they produce delightful surprises when sown
between the rows, where they serve as flowers for
picking.

Annual poppies thrive best in a sandy loam. Their
seeds should be sown thinly or merely sprinkled over
the ground and pressed down as soon as the frost
has disappeared. When well up they should be
thinned out to about a foot apart. By sowing the

[133 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

seeds in the autumn, the flowers can be secured earlier
in the spring, and by repeated sowings they can be
kept in the garden for a long period. As the last
tulip droops its head, the poppies, held high on their
graceful stems, begin to unfold. The list of annual
varieties is long and varied and well deserves a place
in spring planting, even that of a limited nature.

The perennial poppies, of which the oriental and
its varieties are the most amazing in size and vividness
of color, can be planted in early spring, although many
think the undertaking uncertain at this season and
greatly prefer to plant or to move them in late August.
The advantage then is gained of their becoming well
settled and able to store up plenteous energy long
before it is time for them to send forth their most
startling bloom of the next season. As the plants
then lift their great flowers, they become the high
note of the whole garden. For this reason, it is well
to place them at points which need accentuation, rather
than to mix them indiscriminately with other flowers,
whose appearance they are likely to belittle and to
pale. The oriental poppy looks very gorgeous in
long beds that border paths, especially where there is
an abundance of bloom about it. It is a native of
Siberia.

The Iceland poppy, Papaver nudicaule, and its
varieties, are also perennials, dwarf in habit and well
adapted to grow among rocks, against which the
brightly colored flowers form a pleasing contrast. They
look well in masses. Perennial poppies, when raised
from seeds, should be sown between June and August.

[134 ]

PLANTING

Perennials, as is well known, are among the happy
plants that can be moved at almost any time of the
year. Still, there are a few that seem to flourish
better if set in the ground when things are bud-
ding. Lavender, hollyhocks, chrysanthemums, blanket
flowers, dahlias, red-hot poker plants, and anemones
are emphatically among the number. The anemones
which blossom late in the autumn should naturally
be planted in the spring; those for spring bloom,
however, should be planted in the autumn.

Red-hot poker plants do not always winter well
in places where the climate is severe, and therefore
assurance of at least one year of bloom is obtained by
planting them in the spring. If it is then feared that
they cannot withstand the winter, their roots should
be taken up and stored in a cellar until the return of
their planting time.

The advantage of these plants is that they hold
their bloom until late in the autumn, often producing
in somber places vivid patches of salmon red and
yellow, suggesting a flame. There is a wide diversity
of opinion concerning their charm. In some seaside
gardens, I have seen them producing beautiful effects
when grouped with grasses. In other places, I have
liked them not at all. There is a strange look about
their bloom, detaching them from their neighbors.

Blanket flowers, Gazllardias, should have a place in
every garden, since they are not only decorative in the
open, but hold this attribute in a marked degree when
taken into the house as cut flowers.

Among the dahlias, half-hardy perennials, there

[135 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

are varieties, as for instance the Jules Crétien, that
will bloom the first season provided the seeds are sown
early in the spring. Very few, however, of this group
of plants, seen in seaside gardens, have been raised from
seeds. The custom usually prevails to buy their
roots or the growing plants and to set them in their
places, about eight inches deep in the soil, during the
latter part of April. After the first autumn frosts have
touched their foliage, their roots should be taken up
and stored in a dry cellar over the winter. The ensuing
spring they can be divided before resetting in the gar-
den, reserving three or four tubers for each hill.

There are many dahlias that are very rich in color
and are also valuable because they hold their bloom
after that of most summer flowers has faded. They
do well in seaside gardens; but, like the poker plants,
they are not universally liked. The single varieties
are less stiff and artificial looking than the double
ones, and those of yellow and deep maroon please
the taste of artistic people more than any of their
other colors. Dahlias of the cactus variety, which
have many and stanch admirers, will grow against
a wall or a fence like a high hedge. I have known
several flower lovers, however, of taste and cultiva-
tion, who lived happily in gardens in which there
were no dahlias. They require careful staking.

Cannas more than either gladioli or dahlias seem
to have taken the lead among bedding plants, and of
their striking beauty and usefulness in certain places
there isno doubt. They also are half-hardy perennials,
requiring to have their tubers taken up in the late

[ 136 ]

NTHS PLANTED

MINED SINGLE HYACI

I

f XXAV

PLAT

MASSE

EN

PLANTING

autumn and to be stored in a cool place until the return
of spring, which is their planting season. These dor-
mant tubers should then be divided and cut up like
potatoes, leaving two or three eyes to a tuber, and
then planted so that an eye may show near the surface
of the ground. The practise of starting their tubers
indoors in boxes in March or April is also pursued and
then setting the plants out in the open when the earth
has become warm. Their increase, like that of dahlias,
is very rapid. Gladioli, on the contrary, do not mul-
tiply their corms to any great extent, and are therefore
more costly members of the garden.

The French varieties of cannas have long been
thought the most beautiful, though many of the Amer-
ican hybrids have now equaled if not surpassed them
in size, color, and striking beauty. In fact, cannas
have been so greatly improved of late that even those
who have cared little for them in the past have been
won over to a recognition of their many attractions.
They are par excellence plants for formal mounds and
beds, and in some cases appear to advantage at the
backs of borders. They love the full sun and a deep,
moist soil well enriched with manure.

At various seaside homes, I have seen beds of cannas
so well situated that they added to the general beauty
of their surroundings; more often, however, I have
seen them where other styles of planting should have
prevailed. The sea, when it approaches a garden,
especially one by a rocky coast, seems often so
elemental and wild that plants which show the florist’s
art strongly are somewha’ out of tune in its vicinity.

[ 37]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Rock gardens and those of naturalistic tendencies are
more pleasing in such places than formal mounds of
cannas of the highest class.

The seeds of hollyhocks should be sown in the
seed bed every year in April or May, that the plants
may be ready to transplant and blossom the following
season. They are undeniably hardy, lasting many
years in a garden. But the flowers of young plants
are so much larger and more beautiful than those
of the older ones that it well repays the interest of the
garden to keep up its stock and sow them each spring.
Hollyhocks a year old are usually bought to plant
in new gardens, in order that their bloom may be
seen the first season instead of being deferred until
the second year.

One of the finest of these plants that I have ever
seen, standing erect and tall as a chieftain, was in a
garden of Shelter Island and was self-sown. It had
chosen to grow at one of the most conspicuous points
of the garden, from where it appeared to have command
over the smaller plants. These great plants would
be sadly missed from seaside gardens, for they are
strong in personality and lend an air of stalwartness
to their surroundings.

Lavender is on the list for spring planting. It is
seen in few gardens of this country, very rarely in those
that stretch far northward, where it often winter-
kills. In many of the coast towns, however, moderately
temperate in climate, I have known it to grow vigor-
ously. It is not a showy plant, but the fragrance of
its leaves and flowers, and the delicate steel-gray color

[ 138 ]

PLANTING

of its foliage, cause it to be loved as dearly as many
plants more brilliantly arrayed.

Spring is also an admirable time of year in which
to plant ornamental grasses which are used to give
tropical. effects in certain places as well as to supply
backgrounds for perennials. Clumps of ferns can
be planted in naturalistic places in the spring as long
as the work is done before their fronds have made
enough growth to render them liable to break in trans-
portation. Ferns that are not moved until the autumn
should be in their new homes not later than the middle
of September.

As with nearly all rules for garden building, the
time of planting is subject to many exceptions and
modifications. Peonies are much planted in the spring,
especially in gardens that are new. They seldom,
however, give much satisfaction the first year, often
causing disappointment to their owners, who had
thought to see them rise and bloom like old and well-
established plants. August is the really ideal time to
plant peonies. Their bed should then be made deep,
amply enriched with manure, and given, if possible,
a position open to full sunlight. Barring a liberal
mulch in the autumn, the plants can then take care
of themselves, and in the following season will give
to the garden a wealth of gorgeous bloom.

The so-called piny of olden gardens, Peonia offici-
nalis flora plena, may be aghast to-day at the number
and diversity of relatives which horticultural skill has
attained for it, provided that, like other plants, it
has the sensibility accredited to it by some observant

[ 139 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

people. Peonies now occur in all shades of white,
pink, lilac, carmine, crimson, and red, and there is
even the P. solfatare, which shows blossoms of sulphur
yellow. P. tenuifolia is peculiar on account of the
fernlike cut of its leaves. Among white peonies
none is more beautiful than the well-known festiva
maxima. Wonderful effects can be gained by a massive
planting of peonies. In China and Japan, this fact
has been appreciated for generations. By using the
early, the intermediate, and the late varieties, the
bloom of a garden of peonies may be extended for a
considerable period.

It is frequently argued that peonies are for distant
and rather bold effects. It seems to me, on the con-
trary, that the nearer and the more intimately they
are grown in a garden the better for its beauty.

The peony is in no sense a vulgarian; it is an aristo-
crat among aristocrats, the royal flower of China,
and believed by the Greeks to be of divine origin.
Pests, blights, and diseases never touch the plant.
It will not run out in a garden, but once having shown
its loyalty, steadfastly regards it as its home and
increases in size and beauty until the last day.

The old gardens of New England towns snuggling
closely to the sea were rich in peonies. In a garden in
Salem, one old plant has borne a hundred flowers in a
season, another has borne sixty, another forty, deemed
there a small number. Like a rare work of art, the
peony becomes more beautiful as it grows old.

The exquisite water-color illustration (plate xli.)
represents the peonies in a modern garden at Stonington,

[140]

GRAPE HYACINTHS

PLATE XXXVIII

PLANTING

Connecticut. This garden is set well in the sun and
built around a dial marking the passage of hours.
A tall hedge protects it on one side. Free from the
annoyance of riotous gales, well at their ease in a place
fitted to their comfort, these peonies can revel in their
own gorgeousness. To walk among them is to sense
the mystery of the world of flowers.

Late summer is also an excellent time to set out the
gas plant, Dictamus frazinella. In growth and longev-
ity, this plant is something like the peony, although
its spikes show curious flowers of a delicate outline.
They are very fragrant. On warm evenings the
plant, as its name suggests, exudes a gas so strong
that the flowers will ignite and produce a bright flash
when a lighted match is held near them. It is not
very generally planted, although it might well be,
both as a curiosity and for its beauty.

Evergreens should be planted in late August.
In fact, there are few months in the year so favorable
for setting out the coniferous evergreens. The warmth
of the soil and the likelihood of plenteous moisture
then assist them greatly in becoming well settled
before the winter. When it is necessary to plant
them in the spring, late April or early May are
propitious times, since their growth of the season
rarely begins before the last of May or the first of
June. It is to avoid the exhaustion incident on the
production of new growth which follows so quickly after
spring transplanting that the majority of gardeners
prefer to put them in the ground in August. Their
growth for the season is then over, but their roots

[141]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

are still sufficiently active to take a good hold of the
soil before the early frosts.

August is a pleasing month to the garden builder.
The spring days of haste are over, the garden has
shown most of its bloom, and the real work of the
autumn has not begun. It is a time of pause and com-
parative rest, although early in the month the seeds
of nearly all perennials, if desired, can be sown in
the seed bed. It seems truly as if the planting done in
August were so much time gained on the autumn and
on the following spring.

[142]

CHAPTER XIII

AUTUMN WORK IN THE GARDEN

HEN seasons are gentle, the days of summer
linger in a garden, loth to go, unwilling
to pass out before the crude hint of Jack

Frost is given. It seems then as if there were some-
thing more to do, — a few backward buds to mature, a
few seed pods to fill, an injured plant to restore,—
since a summer never leaves with all its work quite
done. The autumn steps in to complete this work;
and wise is the gardener who acknowledges its
entrance, even though he may regret the passing of
summer.

In the early autumn days, a great deal of work can
be done in a garden. 'If it is delayed through mis-
apprehension that the summer has overridden the
autumn, frost will find the plants unprepared for its
severity, much damage will be suffered, and precious
time, perchance, lost in regaining an advantage already
established. In many gardens, so much work is now
done in the autumn that the following spring becomes
more a time of watchfulness and expectancy than one
of haste and labor. .

Autumn is preéminently the time -to rectify mis-
takes in a garden. It is, moreover, a time to make
changes, to rebuild and replant, and to proceed with

[ 143 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

the clear eye of experience gained from knowledge of
conditions during the last summer.

In the spring, when plants are sprouting, the size
to which they grow is not fully realized, as in the
autumn, when they still stand tall and bushy, showing
that they monopolize a good deal of space. Neither
is the poignancy of color so clearly before the mind
in the days of spring as in the autumn, when perchance
a belated flower still lives to testify to its importance.
The imagination can see the perfected future of a
garden in the autumn infinitely better than it can in
the early spring days.

The greater number of trees are successfully planted
in the autumn, eliminating always such ones of soft
wood as the magnolias, sweet gums, poplars, and wil-
lows, and also the beeches, birches, and oaks, although
belonging to the hard-wooded class. Azaleas, Japanese
snowballs, and hydrangeas, besides a few other shrubs,
are seldom planted by experts except in the spring,
while the great multitude of flowering shrubs have
identified themselves with autumn planting. Naturally
there are many successful exceptions to prove a complete
disregard to those rules. In the majority of cases, how-
ever, it is well to adhere to them closely.

Many perennials, especially irises, lilies, phloxes,
larkspurs, and sweet williams, should be planted in the
autumn, which is also a fit time to divide and reset the
older ones of a garden. When this work is begun about
the middle of September, while the ground is still
warm, the root fibers of the plants take sufficient hold
of the soil to begin to grow before the advent of cold

[144]

GUINEA-HEN FLOWERS

PLATE XXXIX

AUTUMN WORK IN GARDEN

weather. Moisture, moreover, is more likely to be
supplied to them at this season than after spring
planting, which in this country is often followed by a
protracted summer drought. But when the location
of a seaside garden is very bleak and exposed, autumn
planting frequently gives way in a measure to that of
the spring, as the cold comes so early that it would be
difficult for plants to establish themselves well in the
soil before the winter. Again the climate must be
gaged and the result applied as a modification of
all set rules and theories concerning plant cultivation.

The autumn is the recognized time for the general
planting of bulbs, those identified with other seasons
being few in comparison to the many varieties that are
set in the ground at this time. Snowdrops, crocuses,
squills, jonquils, hyacinths, tulips, and the large com-
pany of so-called bulbs planted in the autumn show
little to the material eye of the color and fragrance they
hold within their dull exteriors. Yet if planted when
the leaves begin to change and the autumn haze is in
the air, they work steadily toward sending forth their
fantastic beauty in answer to the call of spring in the
early, spotless days.

Growers and importers of bulbs invariably urge
their patrons to order them early, and to plant them
early; that is, in late September, an especially excellent
time when gardens are near the sea. But a bulb
should not be dug before it has stored a sufficient
supply of food to enable it to produce its leaf and flower
the next season; and this fact must necessarily control
its time of planting. All bulbs are not ripe enough

[145 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

to be planted in late September. Some of the choicest
imported bulbs, such as those of auratum lilies,
do not reach this country until November, simply
because to dig them before they are ripe would be
to make them worthless. The sooner they can be
planted, however, after they have ripened, the more
likely they are to live and to attain a high state of
development. Madonna lilies and Spanish irises should
not be planted later than September, since unlike most
bulbs they make a leaf growth in the autumn.

To keep a garden up to its best, additional bulbs
should be planted each year; for there are those that
die out after a time, others deteriorate, and again new
places present themselves to be planted with this class
of flowers. To plant bulbs in the autumn is neither a
costly nor an arduous undertaking. ‘To the flower
lover it is a delight; for he feels that through the
dull days, when nature apparently rests, they will
be working under the ground for the future beauty of
the garden.

In the autumn, the beds of hardy, hybrid, perpetual
roses should not be overlooked, in case transplanting
is to be done or an addition made to their numbers.
This class of roses moves best at this season, although
spring is a better time to set the more delicate tea
and hybrid tea rose bushes (page 212).

The vines near the garden require attention in
the late autumn. Many of them, like the Clematis
paniculata, should then be pruned, to induce a vigorous
growth for the following spring. It is also necessary
to inspect them the same as rose bushes and to see that

[ 146 ]

AUTUMN WORK IN GARDEN

no tall, outstraying shoots are in such a position as to
be tossed about by the wind, as in this way the plant
is apt to lose its firm hold on the soil. Even in cases
where spring pruning is desirable, it is necessary to
take off those unruly members likely to cause harm
to their owners.

Besides being a time of general supervision in a
garden, the autumn is also the day to clean up,
make things tidy, and at length to cover it all
warmly.

The borders of beds and the edges of hardy borders
should be straightened, widened, or adjusted to suit
the taste in the late season. In fact, after the grass has
stopped growing, edges that have been improved remain
in this condition and gradually harden until the warmth
of the following spring coaxes the frost out of the ground.
Ground that is freshly broken in the autumn for either
new beds or borders, and soil that is properly cleansed
and fertilized, will settle well during the winter and
be in complete readiness the following spring to receive
new plants or the sowing of annual seeds.

I have known several excellent gardeners who make
their sweet pea beds in the autumn and sow the
seeds then, thinking that by this method they would
secure the flowers earlier for the oncoming season.
Sometimes the plan is successful, although in gardens
rendered cold by the nearness of the sea, I have known
many cases of failure, owing to its pursuance. The
middle of March, when the season is favorable, seems
to be a safe time to plant these seeds, and one which
assures their bloom by the last of June, or slightly after

[147]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

the hardy roses have faded. Indeed, this is a fitting
moment for these elfin flowers to come into the garden,
for earlier the bulbous plants, the roses, and some
perennials have made it gay and given enough flowers
to please the most exacting.

One of the highly successful first-year gardens that
I have known had its plan perfected, and all its beds
and borders made, in the autumn. They were, besides,
deeply manured and built up with rich soil. In Sep-
tember and October, they were plentifully planted with
bulbs and perennials and given later a liberal covering
of litter for the winter. When spring came, the edges
of this garden were ready to hold innumerable plants,
while the interiors of the beds were filled with more
plants and strewn, where opportunity offered, with
annual seeds. The position of the plants that had
been set in the autumn had been carefully studied, and
when they sent up their sprouts it became an easy
matter to allot the spaces to the new plants and to the
annuals.

During the winter, the soil of this garden had taken
its just position, and was free from such sinking and
packing as gften retards growth.

In design this garden was colonial, and while it held
most of the plants which made the old gardens beau-
tiful, it still gave space to a great many of the newer,
rarer species. It produced a succession of bloom most
delightful, something that was not expected of the
gardens of our grandmothers. After the spring and
early summer flowers of these gardens had passed,
many of them ceased to show color, or they pre-

[148 ]

PLATE XL CROWN IMPERIALS

AUTUMN WORK IN GARDEN

sented, rather, a period of complete greenness before
the opening of the autumn blossoms. The remark-
able photograph (plate xlvi.) represents a garden in
Salem, Massachusetts, which is well over a hundred
years old and lies not far distant from the sea. As
a tangled mass of foliage, it is ineffably charming,
yet there is not a blossom to be seen in it. To-day,
however, owing to the results of hybridization, the
importation of foreign plants, and the multitudinous
varieties from which a garden can be made, the necessity
of seeing it pass out of bloom temporarily is overcome,
even as the winter garden is now made less dreary
than formerly through the encouragement of ever-
green plants.

Undoubtedly, the most important autumn work of
the garden is to prepare its inhabitants to meet the
winter. This must be done judiciously, since some
plants require but slight protection, while others need
a truly heavy winter coat. As a rule, seaside gardens
can stand a fairly warm winter covering. Iam familiar
with several gardens, even at considerable distances
from the sea, wherein not a hardy plant is left unpro-
tected; and at these places there is little, if any, loss
during the winter.

In some gardens placed near the edge of the sea,
extraordinary protection is required to keep the plants
and shrubs from freezing or from being hopelessly
injured by cold salt spray. Gnomes, goblins, romping
children, and witches might be thought to chase each
other through one garden by the Sound, should a
stranger venture there on a cold, moonlit night of

[149 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

winter. The young shrubbery, besides having a heavy
root protection of manure and litter, is completely .
tied up in burlap bags, presenting a curious scene
against a cold blue sky. Yet in gardens of the same
township, set farther back from the sea, and better
protected by buildings, these same shrubs go through
the winter with merely a light root protection. So
again is heard the refrain concerning the study of
special climate conditions for each garden.

In highly exposed gardens, the custom is pursued
of putting a light covering about the roots of plants
as soon as the days become cold and show real indica-
tions of autumn. This is then added to after the first
frosts and made especially heavy and compact before
the winter. In this way, the ground is kept from
becoming chilled —a fact which is most desirable,
especially where transplanting has been done in the
late season.

Hardy roses should be covered late, as a slight nip
of frost merely helps them to mature. Tea roses and
the more delicate kinds require, in the majority of
seaside gardens, both heavy root protection and a
good wrapping of straw.

To prepare a garden to meet the winter is more
of a duty than to plant it for the spring. Frequently
plants that have been discarded with the comment
that they would not survive the winter in such and
such a place would have lived if they had been properly
covered. This is especially true of many of the so-
called hardy perennials, about which the mistaken
idea seems to exist that they have merely to be planted

[150 ]

AUTUMN WORK IN GARDEN

in order to live, bloom, and increase in a garden for all
time. Asa matter of fact, even the hardiest perennials
require care. They must be pruned, divided at certain
times, reset, and protected against cold, or, even if
their inherent hardiness prevents them from dying,
they will show but feeble examples of their possi-
bilities. It is also astonishing how many amateur
gardeners will content themselves with blooms inferior
in size and color. Those who love flowers, however,
will strive always to give the plants opportunity and
their just requirements, that they may live in health
and comfort and bountifully produce their finest
flowers.

There is complete satisfaction in a garden well
prepared to meet the winter. It has earned its rest,
its long sleep, during which the mind of the gardener
can turn to other things. For at length comes the
snow, —a covering of nature warmer than any he
could fashion.

[151]

CHAPTER XIV

ANNUALS OF ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

HE will of the annual is to germinate its seed,
to raise its plants, to bloom, to form seed,
and to die, all between the days when the

frost leaves the ground in the spring and reinstates
itself in the autumn. During this period, the annual
would exist, accomplish its mission, and pass into
oblivion. It pretends to no lasting affection for, or
interest in, the garden that makes its home. It is
not like the old-time roses, or the sturdy perennials
that graced their abiding places from one year to
another. All that the annual demands, or rather
hopes, is that it may be left in undisturbed peace
until it has sown its seed and enjoyed the luxury of
dying.

On this determination of the annual, the gardener
lays a deterring hand. He picks its blossoms up to
the very day of frost without allowing it to mature and
to form seed, since he knows that by so doing he will
encourage the plant to try again and to put forth
fresh flowers destined to make seed, but which prove
to be merely objects for his culling. In this way, the
natural course of things is interrupted in modern
gardens, as the longer a plant can be kept from forming
seed, the longer will be its period of bloom. Of many

[152]

NUGUVD LIINAS V NI SAINOdd Vix ALWId

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

gardens, therefore, annuals form par excellence the
picking flowers.

They are a cheery, gay race, never stinting their
bloom, or diminishing in vigor when the proper chance
to flourish is given them. They are, besides, plants
that can be relied upon to act in much the same way,
even under diverse circumstances.

Many annuals are indifferent to the nearness of
the sea, delighting in sandy stretches of coast and
the broad glare of the sun. Very frequently they are
sown for convenience to fill spaces where it is expected
that later other things will grow permanently. Again,
it is often the color of the blossom that is thought of
to the exclusion of all other interests.

Among the annuals are to be found many of the most
brilliant and startling colors known to the world of
flowers. Nasturtiums show their vivid, almost bar-
baric colors to advantage when near the sea. They are
natives of Peru, where strength of color is more identi-
fied with the climate than it is with that of the United
States.

A child may grow nasturtiums with success.
The process is merely to sow their seed in early May
and then to await the unfolding of their flowers. As
border plants growing about a foot high, they are
valuable, and they are also useful to work in among
rockeries. The climbing varieties give satisfaction in
many places. Nasturtiums are annuals with a liking
for sandy soil, although I have also seen them growing
very acceptably in soil that was poor and abundant
in clay.

[153]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

But to plant nasturtiums without due appreciation
of the intensity of their red and yellow flowers, their
copper and their bronze shadings, has more than once
proved fatal to the beauty of a seaside garden. They
destroy most other reds, pale the majority of yellows,
and harmonize with few shades of blue. Once I saw
their flowers near sweet williams of carmine colors,
and the impression they produced was sharply painful.
They should be kept distinctly apart from portulacca,
else one might wish that neither the one nor the other
had ever lived. Yet, I have seen them about a bed
of salvia, and was agreeably surprised at the highly
decorative effect of the planting. When grown at
the base of masses of white-flowered cosmos, they have
pleased me extremely. A powerful nasturtium vine
intertwining itself among the fleecy flowers of Clematis
paniculata is an equally attractive sight. (Plate xxix.)

It may indicate a hypersensitiveness to color,
but several times a few of these plants in full bloom
have spoiled for me the beauty of many square feet
of planting, merely because due regard had not been
paid to the strength of their colors.

Petunias do so well in open, sunny situations near the
sea, resist the drought so stoutly, and continue to bloom
so generously until the frost, that gardeners are fre-
quently led to plant them in great profusion. They
appear best when massed, especially if looked at from a
distance. In an old garden (plate xlviii.) outlined by
box and having the fascination of steps which occur at
intervals in the long walk, the petunias form every year
an attractively colored picture, for there enough of them

[154]

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

are seen together to radiate their various tones and
shades. A few petunias interspersed with other plants
are seldom particularly pleasing.

Pansies, with faces reputed to appear as merry as
those of children, are among the annuals of many
gardens near the sea. Yet all pansy faces do not seem
intent on smiling. I have seen those that appeared
the embodiment of spite, others that simply looked
cross, and often some with most pompous expressions.
All of them, nevertheless, give the idea of being wide
awake and on the qui vive to lend an ear to garden
chat and gossip. I have yet to see a pansy that looked
dull or sleepy. It seems as if no one should be lonely
when near a number of these irresistibly pert little
flowers.

Pansies delight in a moist, cool soil, one also that
has been well fertilized. Bone meal acts upon them
admirably.

The finest specimens that I have seen, that would
have attracted attention at a show, were those whose
seeds had been sown in July in a shady bed behind a
stable. In early October, when the plants had reached
a considerable size, they were transplanted to the places
in which it was intended they should bloom the follow-
ing spring, and which had been well enriched for their
reception. They were not allowed to blossom that
autumn, although a few of them showed strongly that
such was their inclination. As a protection against
the winter, they were covered with litter before the
first frost.

When the scent of spring was in the air this covering

[155 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

was removed, and even then a few of the most nimble-
minded of the plants were in bloom. A fortnight
later they made as admirable a show as the plants that
gardeners had then set out to enliven city parks and
window boxes. They held their bloom fairly well until
the last of July, one reason for which was that they
were not allowed to go to seed.

A practise now preferred by many is to use pansies
in monotone for border edgings and other purposes,
rather than to plant them of all and varied colors.
Beds of solid yellow pansies offset by others of royal
purple, winding in and out in conventional designs,
was the plan of decoration pursued one year in the
beautiful gardens of Monte Carlo. These gardens
are necessarily very formal, and under such constant
and expert supervision that no leaf or flower is ever
seen except in its full development of health and beauty.
The least sign of frailty in a plant is the cue for its
removal, that the place may be at once filled by one
more worthy to hold its own in the race for the sur-
vival of the fittest.

Pansies planted in this way, however, are exclusively
for color effect. The pleasure of noticing the curious
piquancy and many expressions of their faces is greatly
modified.

Fairest among annuals are the sweet peas. All
flower lovers should have them, although perhaps not
in the garden. Like the large flowering shrubs and
the stately trees, sweet peas are more appropriately
placed outside the borders of the garden. The reason
for their exclusion is that they demand a trellis on which

[ 156 ]

PLATE XLII TYPES OF ANNUAL POPPIES

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

to climb. Usually a place can be readily found for
this, as a line of sweet peas serves not only as an ex-
quisite screen, but also asa picking garden. This trellis
should be strong and long, since there are few people
who could have too many of these elfin-like flowers.
Their colors, while many, never clash; in outline they
rival each other in piquancy, while with unerring
instinct they bend their firm fingers to grasp and uplift
their stems on the trellis. In fact, their tendrils do not
hesitate to strangle the leaves of a neighbor to death,
provided it stands in the way of their reaching the
desired support and giving their flowers the right poise
in which to show their translucent grace.

The mixed varieties of sweet peas that unfold in
innumerable colors are seldom sown now. It is prefer-
able to choose a number of distinctive varieties and
place one after the other along the trellis. There may
then be seen groups of deep cream-colored flowers,
as shown by the Queen Victoria; others of exquisite
lavender, as the variety called “admiration.” The
“navy blue”’ is well known and deeply toned; the early
Blanche Ferry is seen in pink and white; Dorothy
Eckford, with its broad, high standard, is pure white,
and the white Spencer of more recent introduction
is very beautiful. Some of the salmon-colored varieties
are lovely, and the black knight, in deepest maroon,
offsets them well. There are, besides, so many others
of clear or striped colors and distinctive forms that it
would be vain to try to recall them all.

When the aphis attacks them, as is not unusual,
they should be sprayed consistently with kerosene

[ 157]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

emulsion. In times of dry weather, moreover, they
should be kept well watered to prevent them from
drying up. The care that they require, which in
truth is slight, is more than repaid by their delicate
beauty. It would be as fulsome to criticize them as
to malign a band of fairies mounting towards the sky.

Sweet peas should not be omitted as flowers for
picking purposes. When in the house, the charm of
their deep, sweet fragrance is fully realized (page 147).

The perennial peas, Lathyrus latifolius (page 93),
can never vie with the annual sweet peas in power to
please, since they are not so exquisite in color and
quite without their impelling scent.

Pluri-color in annuals, as instanced by nasturtiums,
pansies, portulacca (page 154), sweet peas, and other
flowers, requires a much more conservative treatment
than when it is shown in monotone.

Ageratums, half-hardy annuals which occur in a
pastel shade of blue, could hardly be placed amiss in
a garden, since their soft mat color is without variation
and appears to harmonize graciously with all others.
When grown among foliageplants of light, stirring green,
ageratums have a look suggestive of the mist from
the sea. These plants were seldom omitted from the
gardens of fifty years ago, and often it seems a pity
that they are not more generally planted to-day. In
places where a low edge is desired, the dwarf ageratum
appears most charming, and its bloom covers a long
period. Blue is always a very valuable color in a
seaside garden.

Centaurea cyanus, bachelor’s buttons, cornflowers,

[158 ]

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

ragged sailors, blue tops, blue bonnets, or plants known
by various other names, among which hawdods is reputed
to be the most ancient, shows bright blue with attractive
variations. They enter the garden early, forming a
strong patch of color, which runs into glints of carmine
and purple, or pales to a soft azure-tinted white. Their
personalities present a wayward, almost careless, beauty
for a space of quite three months, provided the blossoms
are kept cut. It is to the advantage of these plants
that they reseed themselves generously, occurring year
after year with much the same regularity characteristic
of perennials. For bouquets in the house they are
very pretty, especially in rooms decorated in green.
Even when worn in the buttonhole of a supposed-to-
be-disgruntled bachelor, they have sufficient esprit to
remain fresh for a whole day.

About the colors of Phlox Drummondi, another an-
nual that can be had in bloom for at least three months,
so long as it is prevented from making seed, there
cannot be the same freedom in planting as when dealing
with bachelor’s buttons or annual larkspurs. P. Drum-
mondi sings a note of caution. Among the many colors
in which it occurs, there is undoubtedly the sting of
harshness. There is, besides, much brilliancy, the kind
that might be cruel. In a few gardens by the sea, I
have known it to produce effects that compelled instant
admiration. This, however, was where it was handled
judiciously, and given a fair field of its own and plenty
of atmosphere. Again, I have seen it scattered at
random among other flowers and have thought that
a kaleidoscopic nightmare could not hold more terrors.

[ 159 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Phlox, which is, in truth, an American plant, appears
to have the brilliancy and the harshness of the atmos-
phere of the New World. It occasionally makes one
recall the theory that magenta, the unloved color, is
the one peculiar to her zone.

The facility with which P. Drummondi can be
grown, its extreme hardiness, and the fact that it
seldom grows over a foot high, combine to make it
valuable in many gardens. In the white form, it is
always pleasing, the lack of color apparently modifying
the hyperprimness of the flowers.

The German ten-week stocks are softly tinted
annuals, which show sufficient grace to win a permanent
place in seaside gardens. Once, before a villa border-
ing the Mediterranean, one covered with a bourgain-
villia vine, I saw them blooming as nowhere else.
They appeared fairly to undulate color. One might
fancy them the shore-cast offering of that sparkling
sea. In America, I have often wished to see such an
effect of stocks. There they were the commanding
flower. In the gardens here, they are not planted in
such unconquered quantities, and are usually hedged
in with other plants that detract from their importance.
By the Mediterranean villa, the very thought of the.
existence of other flowers slipped away. It simply
seemed that the earth there was gently colored.

But the atmosphere and the sky have a wonderful
effect on flowers near the sea. Against this same white
villa, the bourgainvillia vine poured its flowers in
heavy masses until hardly a spot was left untouched
by them. Yet they gave no feeling of crude color.

[ 160 ]

Sy

LT]

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

The display of bloom was such as to make the heart
glad. In Algiers, also, the Arab’s ideal of a diamond
set in an emerald frame, a city hugged by the sea, white
villa after white villa is noticed to be covered with the
marvelous bourgainvillia, robing them in beauty.

In America, however, where the atmosphere is
sharp, the sun very fierce, and the sea less blue than
the Mediterranean, many would shudder before a
white house covered with a magenta flower. Yet, as
already mentioned, magenta is the color reputed to
belong to this particular zone. Perhaps the dislike
of magenta, which is now a recognized fact in garden
building, is after all only an idea or a mistaken feeling.

It is, nevertheless, the flowers of scarlet, red,
carmine, and magenta that are most apt to cast the
apple of discord into a garden. The blues, the yellows,
and the whites seldom cause inharmony. Last summer
a sweet william of carmine magenta opened beside the
late blooming Celestine iris. The effect of the two
flowers together was hideous. Still, there was no
thought at the time that the iris was at fault; while
the wish to banish the sweet william at any cost was
rampant.

The annual larkspurs, which by sowing in succession
can be had for a long period of bloom, provided the
withered flower stems are cut off, occur in many ex-
quisite and translucent colors, blending like the tones
of an opal. The flesh-colored and lilac varieties fairly
rival the beauty of some orchids. As the flower stalks
lift themselves above their distinctively cut leaves,
there is something dolphin-like in the shape and bearing

[161 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

of each flower, and wherever they are seen they show
fair color, having no sting.

Among the perennial varieties of larkspurs, usually
called delphiniums, there are those of a blue as deep as
the sea, and one most white and stately. Often the
annuals and the perennials of a garden are closely
related; yet, as is well known, one is destined to die at
the end of the summer, the other to live on, perhaps,
through many succeeding years. As they bloom in
the garden together, they sometimes exhibit to the
world the same outline, the same colors, and often send
forth the same scent.

Sweet alyssum, white candytuft, and baby’s breath
in soft tones of rose are annuals to be relied on for
border edgings, wherever one desires daintiness and un-
obtrusive color. Still, the perennial Alyssum savatile,
or gold dust, makes a more effective edging than the
white annual; and the perennial varieties of candy-tuft
are better to establish permanently before a herbaceous
border or with rockwork than the annual relative.
Both members of the perennial baby’s breath, Gypso-
phila paniculata and acutifolia, are likewise more
satisfactory to grow than the annual variety on account
of their permanence. Still, to fill spaces that have
been overlooked and to start new gardens on their
way, the annuals are a rich company to bring into
service.

Shirley poppies (page 130), in their various shades
of pink, red, and white, have such an ethereal look that
their colors seldom jar on the senses. They suggest
a flight of butterflies passing through the garden.

[ 162 ]

PHLOX

PLATE XLIV

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

It is pleasant to see them planted in strong masses
from which they extend in lessened numbers through
other parts of the garden, occurring singly here and
there. Like the cornflowers, they attend to the matter
of reseeding themselves, so that a garden in which
they have once been liberally sown need not pine
thereafter for their presence.

These poppies, nevertheless, must be kept out of
the wind that in some localities sweeps over a seaside
garden. Not that the plants do not stand it admirably,
bowing gracefully to its onslaughts; but the petals of
the flowers are not attached strongly enough at their
base to offer to it any resistance. Even a modest
wind will carry them off, leaving the plants unharmed,
though stripped of their crowning glory. Ina sheltered
spot, on the contrary, Shirley poppies hold their petals
for four days.

The California poppies, Eschscholtzias, are of ines-
timable value in a garden, the silver sheen of their
foliage forming an artistic setting for their bright
yellow flowers. They bloom early and remain fresh
until late in the autumn. Like all yellow flowers,
they give sparkle to the surrounding planting. In
fact, there is no other color that gives a garden so
cheerful a look as does yellow. It is identified with
the early spring, with midsummer, and also with the
late autumn. At all seasons, it is full of radiance.
Marigolds, calendulas, and annual coreopsis, or calli-
opsis, bear it bravely into the jaws of winter.

Yellow is one of the colors in which zinnias appear
at their best, although through what potent charm they

[ 163 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

have entered so many gardens it would be difficult to
say. In themselves, zinnias are coarse and ugly looking,
worthy only to form a distant mass of color after blooms
that are choice and beautiful have had their day.
At the side of one enchanting rose garden, I have seen
zinnias in bloom in late October. Here and there a
rose lingered, looking lonely enough among the numbers
of barren bushes. Yet this very nearness of the aristo-
cratic queen to the blatant zinnias accentuated their
lack of delicacy. They appeared like beggars without
the palace gate.

There comes a time in the garden when it seems as
if all else had gone to sleep but the snapdragons,
Antirrhina. In fact, they remain so constantly in
bloom throughout the summer that sooner or later
they have an opportunity to catch their neighbors
napping. Of them, all the large ones of clear daffodil
yellow are strikingly attractive. Those of deep crimson
and blood-red have somewhat the texture of velvet,
and there is one lovely variety with flowers of deep
rose. The snapdragons are much used as border plants,
and are equally desired in the house as cut flowers.

Balsams, camellia flowered, especially the pink
variety, look well in a summer garden. After a long
lapse into obscurity, they seem lately to have regained
their popularity.-

Asters should no more be excluded from the planting
list of annuals than sweet peas. At present they are
seen in so many and varied forms; their colors are so
gay and diverse, including pure white, pink, blue, and
the deep crimson of the one called, like the rose, General

[ 164 ]

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

Jacqueminot; and they can be had in bloom for so
long a time that a garden without them appears robbed
of its due. They open, moreover, at a time when the
heat of the summer has had its effect on the garden.
Growth has become tangled, often scraggly; the
determination of plants to form seed can no longer be
hidden. Then the early varieties of asters unloosen
their buds as though intent on giving again to nature
the unsullied look of early spring. There is a prim-
ness yet a softness about these flowers which gives
them distinct and pleasing personalities. Their colors,
although numerous and generally pure pigments, are
apt to keep in tune, no matter how indiscriminately
they are planted. Perhaps it is due to the cut character
of the flowers that their colors are prevented from
becoming harsh and combative. I recall one lovely
border of asters standing about a foot and a half high.
The colors of these flowers were blue, white, and deep
rose. Naturally, the effect they produced was very
brilliant, especially when the sun shone intensely.
When asters are sprayed with tobacco water,
and wood ashes are used about their base, the miserable
pests that attack them can usually be routed. The
lice that prey on their roots can make well-grown and
thrifty plants, abundantly supplied with buds, topple
over and die without a nod of warning to those who
have watched them develop from the time that
their seeds first sprouted. The aster black beetle is
a pest as cordially despised as the scrawly legged rose
bug. Spraying him with insecticides seems to increase
his strength and appetite. Often the only way to
[165 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

get rid of him is to hold a pan of kerosene under each
plant and then to tap it until he, with his swarming
companions, falls therein.

In certain countries, Germany, Austria, and Japan,
there is a strong feeling against asters. They are
called death flowers, and regarded in much the same
way as tuberoses in this country, from which painful
association it seems impossible to separate these waxen
flowers. In Italy, the tuberose is the favorite flower
of the people, and it is also the one used for decorations
on state and formal occasions.

I have also met a few Americans of deep floral
discernment who had no love for asters. But I hope
they will not spread the sentiment, for in gardens
kept moist by the nearness of the sea, they give their
bloom so freely, and appear so bright and alert, that
they would be sadly missed from the growth of the
late season.

Cosmos, with its fleecy foliage, its white, pink, and
soft crimson flowers, is one of the daintiest and most
effective annuals that cheerfully meet Jack Frost,
even though it dies with his touch. Fortunately, there
are both early and late varieties of cosmos. Moreover,
by cutting back the partly grown plant, it can be
induced to flower sooner than otherwise. Cosmos is
used extensively for forming clumps in a border, where
almost invariably it requires staking. But, like the
sweet pea, it has an appropriate place outside the
garden, as it forms delightfully into blooming screens.
In fact, the late varieties of cosmos are sometimes
planted in front of a line of sweet peas, so that, when

[ 166 ]

PLATE XLY

eT

es

TIME

TRIED

PERENNIALS

ADVANTAGEOUS COLORS

these flowers have passed, the cosmos may take their
places.

For cut flowers, cosmos shares in the autumn the
honors with chrysanthemums. The personality of the
flowers is as alert as that of a daisy, while its pink
and crimson tones are too mellow to clash with its
neighbors.

An annual of soothing grace is the mignonette.
The sweet scent of its flowers and its quiet green tone,
reddish or yellow tinted among the new varieties, is
universally pleasing. It is strange, sometimes, to come
upon simple folk with dooryard gardens who regard
mignonette as exclusively a hothouse plant far out of
their reach. Yet, it is one of the least costly and the
simplest to grow of all annuals. It does not like to
be transplanted, but should be left in peace exactly
where the seeds have been sown. Then throughout
the summer it sends out its tribute of flowers — pro-
vided, of course, that its great desire to form seed is
prevented.

Mignonette is often the peacemaker in a garden,
holding all others in harmony through its neutral
color.

[ 167]

CHAPTER XV

FAVORITE PERENNIALS OF THE SALT SPRAY

ERENNIALS like the salt spray; that is, the
P truly hardy kind that live on and bloom each
year as bravely and consistently as the flowers
of the field. There are now an infinite number of
this class of plants that grace many gardens near the
sea, and to name and sing the praises of them all would
require a volume of many pages. Often it is the
time-tried, well-known plants that give the greatest
pleasure. To see them laden with blossoms is as
gratifying as to hear an old melody without change
or variation.

It is a mistake to believe, for an instant, that the
whole care of perennials ends with their planting,
although in abandoned gardens they sometimes are seen
making a noble effort to disregard neglect. The
hypercultivation, however, of modern gardens makes
certain demands. There are insect pests to frustrate,
overcrowding to prevent, seed making to interrupt,
and considerable dividing and resetting to be done
with judgment. Such work claims the attention of
the gardener. Nevertheless, perennials give the least
trouble of any class of plants, and their beauty is
pronounced and acceptable. They are the steadfast
members of the garden.

[ 168 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

Many flower lovers young in experience are loth to
raise perennials from seed, because in the majority of
cases it is then the second season before they blossom.
Besides, excellent plants, almost ready to bloom, can
be purchased at small cost from reliable nurserymen;
and it is often better policy to buy them than to wait
the recognized time for seedlings to reach their maturity.
They increase very rapidly. The stock once bought,
therefore, can be relied on to multiply itself over and
over again.

Years ago a single plant of phlox was an object of
interest to the owner and friends of an old New England
coast garden. To-day the same planting ground shows
an extensive mass of brilliant phloxes that have sprung
from this sturdy parent.

To raise perennials from seed, on the other hand, is
interesting work, and should be done in all large gardens
where it is required that plants should be kept up to
their best development.

A seed bed should always be planned as an assistance
to the raising of perennials. It need not, of course, be
a part of the garden. It is better to locate it in some
out-of-the-way, inconspicuous place, as it is merely to
be used as a nursery for seedlings, and is not destined
to show their bloom. In such a bed, the seeds of peren-
nials can be sown early in the season, be transplanted
later, and at length set in their permanent places before
the end of the autumn. The next year they will come
up with the determination to hold their own among the
other flowers of the garden. A seed bed, in truth,
enables a gardener to raise large quantities of plants

[ 169 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

at very small expense, and does not in the meantime
disturb the appearance of the garden.

Among those who have true feeling for flowers,
and who do not regard them merely as pretty things to
make their gardens attractive, there is a desire to see
the trailing arbutus snugly covering the home ground
in earliest spring. The plant has, however, invariably
been found difficult, and even thought by many im-
possible, to transplant; and it is true that success in
the undertaking can only be expected when it is lifted
up with sufficiently large blocks of earth to leave the
running rootlets undisturbed.

The arbutus delights in a rich, sandy soil, a spot
well shaded; and likes to enjoy, as nearly as possible,
the unfettered freedom and exemption from publicity
that it has in its wild home. In several gardens of the
New England and New Jersey coasts, I have seen the
arbutus fairly well established, and in at least one Long
Island garden it unclasps its buds simultaneously
with those of its relatives in the nearby wood from
which it was originally carried.

To preserve the arbutus, if not in the garden proper,
at the edge of a clump of shrubbery, or where some
bit of wild planting begins, is indeed a pleasure, for
on its successful transplanting to the’ home grounds
may depend its continuance among us, since it now
seems likely to be rapidly exterminated through the
thoughtlessness and lack of knowledge of wild flower
gatherers.

The dainty little flowers called bluets, or Quaker
ladies, Houstonia cerulea, have found their way from

[ 170 ]

Ee
Kare

ihe

PLATH XNLVL A MASS OF TANGLED FOLIAGE

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

the low, moist meadows into the garden border.
The plants are suggestive of moss, and their pretty
blue flowers with bright yellow eyes open in such
unstinted quantities that they fairly color the earth.
Quaker ladies seldom grow over four inches high,
and are, therefore, very useful in edging beds where
color is desired in the very early season, and which
can afford to do without it later. The soft mosslike
foliage of the bluets becomes unobtrusive after the
flowers have passed, and looks merely as if the grass
had raised itself a bit to surround the planting line.

The creeping forget-me-not is another small blue
flower that should be included in the planting of the
garden. It will live and do well for years if placed in
a suitable situation. It likes not only moisture, but
water, and I have seen it growing luxuriantly among
Japanese irises, the roots of which sank deeply in mud.

The bloodroot, Sanguinaria Canadensis, comes into
prominence in early spring, and is almost a dream flower
in loveliness of outline and color. It is as purely
white as the snow and appears regal with its center of
gold. The protection that the leaves afford the tender
buds, and their own grace, make the plants interesting
garden features. But the duration of the bloom of
the bloodroot is very short; and for this reason much
space should not be allotted to it in places where sus-
tained color is desired. Under trees, as a ground cover
among shrubbery, and especially through stretches
of wild planting, it is very desirable.

The rock cress, Arabis alpina, is most charming to
use among rockeries or in the borders of beds. It

[171]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

shows its white flowers in April, then holds them
throughout the day of grape hyacinths and daffodils,
and sometimes even lingers to greet the roses.

There is another little perennial, Phlox subulata,
the moss pink, which occurs in white and in rose, and
which gives great delight to seekers of bloom in the
first days of spring. It grows no higher than the
grass, with which it harmonizes well, and it also does
well about the edges of rocks. It grows in scant,
poor soil, asking nothing, giving a great deal. In
truth, it spreads a veritable carpet of its white or rosy-
tinted flowers, and is so beautiful at the time of the
blossoming of the golden bells that I have often won-
dered why it is not more extensively seen through
lawns apt to become sunburned, and in various rocky
nooks of seaside places.

Armeria maritima, the sea pink, or thrift, is also a
pretty plant with pink flowers that well outline a rock-
ery. It grows taller than the moss pink, approaching
usually a height of one and one-half feet.

Adonis vernalis, with its large yellow flowers, is
also in the group of charming, low-growing spring
plants. The shape of the blossom suggests cosmos,
and fairly startles one as it unfolds near the ground.

The English primrose, Primula vulgaris, makes a
charming border for beds of irregular outline in which
the early blooming bulbous plants have occurred. It
does well by the sea in moist spots where the mid-
summer sun cannot burn it severely.

Dicentra spectabilis, bleeding heart, an introduction
from northern China, .is a fine thing for shady nooks

[aye

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

or rockeries where in early May it can show its rosy,
heart-shaped flowers. Its fernlike foliage remains
beautiful all summer.

Its relative, D. eximia, is one of the notable features
of the Alleghany Mountain flora. There the plants
grow to a large size and bear loosely in compound
racemes many nodding, rose-colored flowers. In shape
they are similar to the well-known Dutchman’s breeches
that children seek in the woods before the hepaticas
have entirely disappeared.

Among the perennials of May are numbered the
rockets, Hesperis matronalis, in white and soft shades
of purple; and surely there is a fascination about them,
with their sweet night scent and their unpretentious
personalities. They sow themselves with such eager-
ness that it often seems as if they intended to elbow
their neighbors out of the garden.

Irises, poppies, and peonies are also perennials that
thrive near the salt spray, but for special reasons they
have all been treated elsewhere than in this chapter.

In every old-time garden of note, there stood a
stately clump of Valerian officinalis. In late May it
began to unfold its flowers, which rested lightly on its
tall stems. In the bud they were delicately pink, but
on opening turned to pure white. Still, it was the
powerful vanilla-like fragrance which drew many to
the plant and which imprinted it indelibly upon the
memory. For the household tabby it had the same
lure and intoxication as catnip,— the reason of its folk
name in England, “‘cat’s fancy.”

To-day it is advertised by nurserymen under the

[173 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

common name of garden heliotrope, and has again taken
its place in many gardens of importance.

As attractive, piquant perennials opening in the
early days of the German iris, the columbines are
well established. Their foliage is especially dainty,
and their flowers occur in so many colors and such
varied forms, their spurs being short, of medium size,
or astonishingly long, that it is futile to attempt to
keep pace with them all.

They are among the easiest of all perennials to
raise from seed. When sown in the late summer,
the plants will make good growth, and be ready to
bloom the next year. They prefer to be sown where
they are to blossom, requiring merely to be thinned
out about a foot apart as they leave the seedling
stage.

Aquilegia Canadensis, the native rock bell, with
flowers of clear red and yellow, is one of the most
suitable of the family to introduce among rockwork.
It is also an interesting plant to preserve near the
home, since it is one of our wild flowers that is speedily
vanishing.

A. chrysantha, golden columbine, which comes from
the mountains of California, is one of the best varieties,
not only on account of the beauty of its long spurs,
but because of the unusual duration of its bloom.
A. cerulea is the well-known blue-and-white variety
of the Rocky Mountains, and A. Californica is distinct
and striking in type.

There is a garden not more than four hundred feet
from the Sound wherein a collection of different types

[174]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

and hybrids of columbines shows them in all their
fantastic grace. There they seem fit companions for
the irises, peonies, and the wonderful Azalea mollis,
leading them in the carnival of color.

In early summer the sweet william, Dianthus bar-
batus, unfolds im the garden, sparingly at first, then
more generously, until it bears a mass of small flowers
in a compact, erect head. They appear well at the edge
of a border, making a considerable display. The
crimson variety is perhaps the least pleasing, and the
most difficult to handle on account of its pronounced
color.

D. plumarius, the pheasant’s eye pink, or cushion
pink, holds its bloom through July. It is really a
prettier plant than the sweet william, and one of delight-
ful fragrance. For edging a border it is also more
desirable, as it seldom grows higher than eight inches.

Gaillardias, or blanket flowers, are satisfactory peren-
nials to grow near the salt spray, since they bloom

- particularly freely. Usually, they begin about the
tenth of June, and from then on until overcome by
frost, each day shows a greater number of effective
yellow flowers with deep red centers. Blanket flowers
come from the western United States. In fact, their
appearance suggests that they might feel at home in the
land of the red man. When used in narrow garden beds,
no edging plant is necessary, as their long-stemmed
flowers droop over and form a border. They require
considerable winter protection.

For cutting purposes blanket flowers are very accept-
able, and they remain fresh in water for the greater

[175 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

part of a week. Unfortunately, they are lacking in
foliage, the little that belongs to the plants not being
particularly attractive. I therefore pick to combine
with them the leaves of the meadow rue, which are
exquisitely shaped and soft in color. The two together
appear very handsome.

Thalictrum dioicum, the meadow rue that I know
best, is a wild inhabitant of the woods. Yet when
transplanted to the garden, it thrives extremely well,
increasing greatly in size as the years pass. Its flower
is insignificant, and for charm it depends entirely
upon its fernlike foliage. From the naturalistic gar-
den, or any moist, woody corner, it should not be
omitted. It is not seen in many gardens, which seems
a pity.

The pearl, Achillea Ptarmica, is now much noticed
among the small double white flowers of June. It
lasts throughout the summer and its effect is light
and delicate. As the plants reach their maximum
height, about one and a half feet, they have a tendency
to lean over on the ground in a scraggly way unless
so arranged that they can give each other support.
For tangled masses, or for planting before clumps of
shrubbery, the pearl has considerable popularity, the
rapidity of its increase being desirable in new gardens.
It is a relative of the yarrow of the fields.

Other Achilleas there are, especially A. millefolium
roseum and A. tomentosa, which bloom attractively
all summer.

The evergreen candytuft, Iberis sempervirens, is
one of the best edging plants, and also useful to form

[176 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

clumps through rockeries where the bloom of June is
especially encouraged.

The perennial baby’s breath, Gypsophila acutzfolia
and paniculata, which come from the Caucasus, take
a month longer to open their flowers than this candy-
tuft, although they then retain them until the early
autumn.

Moneywort, or creeping Jenny, as it is called more
familiarly, is sometimes used to edge a hardy border
completely. When in blossom its flowers might be
mistaken at a distance for a band of yellow ribbon
defining the planting ground; and, although they are
rather strong in tone, they have a sufficiently cheery
air to give pleasure to the sense and eye. In several
gardens near the sea I have seen moneywort employed
extensively. In fact, it thrives so well that it needs
watching lest its underground runners extend beyond
the limit justly ascribed to them and interfere with
the growth of larger plants.

Astilbe Japonica, known in old gardens as Spirea
Japonica, is one of the most graceful among the herba-
ceous perennials. Its panicles of fleecy-looking cream-
white bloom are held well above its sharply defined
foliage, and form strong, beautiful masses in the
garden. Queen Alexandra is a new variety as hardy
as the A. Japonica, and bears pink flowers similar in
tone to that of the bridesmaid rose.

With July there come to the garden many great,
luscious visitors. It is the month when bloom cannot
be held back; when there is a strife to show colors
as vivid and intense as the tones of the sky and the

[177]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

sun. Inland gardens often suffer at this time from
drought and dry, hot atmosphere. Those near the
sea are then greatly helped by the moisture it wafts
toward them.

In July, the phloxes in multitudinous colors become
the reigning beauties of the plant world. They are
as necessary to the success of a garden at this season
as poppies and peonies have been formerly. They can
be planted to show bold masses of solid color or arranged
heterogeneously. To select and arrange them is in
truth a matter of taste, since all grow and increase
with enduring hardiness.

At East Hampton, Long Island, I saw a garden of
phloxes in which their beauty was most pronounced.
I also have seen their full splendor at many places
away from the sea. But in that particular garden,
they struck a note that I have never forgotten. It
may have been due to their setting, or it may have
been due to my mood.

The phlox is indigenous to America, and when
allowed its own fancy, delights in showing itself in a
crimson purple or magenta color. But, happily, since
this color is altogether rampant in character, the
desire of the plant has been skilfully curbed, and
through hybridization and much crossing it has been
led to produce instead an immense number of charm-
ing and subtle shades. Many of them are self-colored;
others show a combination of two colors, while still
other varieties are striped. Untold effects can be
gained for the garden through their employment.
Still, there is a persistence about plants that will some

[178 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

day have its way. Many of the choicest hybrids
revert to magenta with more eagerness than is agree-
able to their planters.

In planting phloxes it is a good plan to mix white
phloxes with the red or crimson shades; for, should
surprise shoots of magenta occur among the latter,
the white ones would not only harmonize the various
colors, but enhance their beauty.

General Chanzy, generous in its outpouring of
brilliant, yet soft pinkish, red, unmarred by magenta,
is one of the most charming varieties for the back of
a border. In front of it pure white phloxes, somewhat
shorter than the General Chanzy, can be used to offset
its startling color.

The lower part of the stalks of these plants is
not pretty, especially when, owing to insect attacks,
drought, or other causes, they have dropped their
leaves. It is therefore well to plant in front of them
either foliage or herbaceous plants that can form a
screen for them.

There are no perennials more easy to cultivate
than phloxes. Every three years their roots can be
divided into thrice the original number. The blossom
also can be made to repeat itself by cutting off the
stalks as soon as the flowers have faded. In gratitude
for a rich, loamy soil, and a liberal top-dressing each
year, the individual flowers grow much larger than
if treated less luxuriously.

Larkspurs, or delphiniums, are favorite perennials
to grow near the salt spray. As tall as the tallest of
phloxes, the beauty of many is equally dazzling when

[179 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

the flowers open closely together along the tall spikes
in purest shades of blue. They are as stately as holly-
hocks. Their color alone, apart from their other
excellent characteristics, should give them place by
the sea, where blue is invariably most enchanting.
They occur in many tints of this color, some of which
have a soft, mistlike quality. From a distance, delphin-
iums catch and hold the eye by the power of their
upright brilliancy. In tall mass planting, they have a
distinct place; at the back of beds and borders, they
appear well, and as backgrounds for shorter growth,
the gardener turns to them eagerly.

The water color (frontispiece) illustrates these
beautiful plants enjoying the intimacy of a formal
garden near the sea. Asa rule they require surround-
ings of green, and many think that white flowers near
them — lilies or phloxes — lend them unusual attrac-
tion, the white acting as do clouds on a blue sky.

Two larkspurs, natives of California, which produce
scarlet flowers, have been introduced into gardens.
There is also a variety with flowers of sulphur yellow.
Hybridization has been busy with delphiniums. But
for no other color would I forsake the blue larkspurs,
and those blue in their clearest, most. unsullied tones.

The tall bee larkspur, Delphinium elatum, often
showing its spikes in loops before they straighten into
their final position, has been for many years a dearly
loved member of the group. D. Brunonianum is
known by the musklike scent emanating from its clear
blue flowers. D. formosum is one of the handsomest
varieties. There are also Chinese delphiniums that are

[ 180 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

favorites with many. Mr. Burbank has contributed
one or two hybrids.

As is true of phloxes, the bloom of larkspurs can
be induced to last over its natural time by cutting
down the stalks as soon as the flowers are faded.
Others then spring up quickly to take their places.

Perennial larkspurs are not difficult to raise from
seed. Often the seed which is sown in the late sum-
mer will produce plants ready to bloom the following
season. The seedlings, however, “damp off” quickly.
I have seen a whole row of them vanish in a night
merely through an excess of moisture.

Another happy trait of delphiniums, shared also
by the phloxes, is that they do not require to be staked,
but stand ever erect, without assistance or artifice.

Asphodels, which in the early garden lore of this
country were often mentioned for the lily-like beauty
of their white or yellow flowers and for their distinct
fragrance, have again come under the eye of gardeners
and now shine brightly in many gardens near the sea.
In June or July they open their flowers, held erect
on stems three or four feet high. By the side of a
stream or in a moist, woodsy corner where the soil
is deep and rich, Asphodelus luteus, the variety generally
planted, appears to distinct advantage. These plants
particularly grace such spots as are the true homes of
irises, and are ideal to plant in connection with them,
since the brilliant yellow of their bloom keeps the local-
ity from paling after the beauty of the iris is past.

Yellow camomile, or hardy Marguerite, Anthemis
tinctoria, is like a large golden daisy, and remains a

[181 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

cheery thing in the garden from June until killed by
the frost. It is not a tall plant, but very useful to fill
in places behind low plants that are used for edging.

Among favorites of old gardens that have not been
routed from their places are the foxgloves, Digitalis,
doing best in cool, partly shaded places, yet also bloom-
ing freely when facing the full sun. They open at
the time of peonies and sweet williams, before the
garden is yet aglow with the July burst of color.

Foxgloves, like Canterbury bells, are hardy bien-
nials. Every year their seed should be sown in April
in the shaded part of the seedbed, and, when the plants
are found to be well grown, about the middle of July,
they should be transplanted to some other tranquil
place of rich soil, where they many continue their
growth until the autumn. They will then be ready
to set permanently in the garden proper, and can be
expected to blossom in the following June. The stalks
they then send up will probably reach their maximum
height of about three feet, and their flowers will
approach a pleasing state of perfection.

The improved strains of foxgloves produce flowers
closely suggesting gloxinias in size, depth, and beauty
of markings. I like best the white and the yellow
ones, and next to them those of purple and pale lilac,
the colors generally known. When planted in clumps
through the garden, the white foxgloves have as dig-
nified a look as the spire of a church looming above a
country village. It must be admitted, however, that
the foliage of these plants is coarse and unattractive.

Canterbury bells, associated closely with foxgloves

[ 182 ]

PLATE XLIX THI DAY OF THE PHLO

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

as flowers beloved in olden gardens, are used to enrich
and grace the majority of modern ones. The accom-
panying illustration (plate liv.) shows them planted
en masse, now a fashionable way of treating them,
although the photograph was taken in a seaside garden
far from the walk of any gay throng. It represents
rather a quaint, homely garden much tangled and
overrun. Among these plants scarlet poppies lifted
their heads, and roses also bloomed. But it was the
blueness of the Canterbury bells that cast over all
the subtle charm of nature’s world. To place in a
border and to form high lights throughout a garden,
they are ideal flowers.

Platycodon, or Campanula grandiflorum, the largest
bellflower in general use, is a Chinese variety, which
opens its shallow bell from a bud inflated like a balloon,
showing the deepest blue. It is a striking looking
plant, but has not, I think, the charm of the Canterbury
bell. It is not a biennial, however, but a hardy peren-
nial —a strong point in its favor.

Campanula carpatica, a pretty little variety with
heart-shaped leaves and broad, bright blue flowers,
is also a hardy perennial, and from the Carpathian
Mountains. Because of its low growth, it is useful to
plant along edges. At the best it seldom stretches
up higher than eight inches.

There are numbers of other bellflowers, all pretty
plants and recognized as among the most satisfactory
dwellers of gardens near the sea.

Few flower lovers do not welcome the day of the
hollyhocks. First one large flower has the courage to

[ 183 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

unfold on its stalk, then another, and another, until
they command the interest of the garden, towering
above shorter growth, and gleaming in innumerable
colors with silver sheen. In old gardens hollyhocks
held their place for generations, and were deeply
beloved by all. Against the landscape they formed
most striking pictures. The formal garden of to-day
cannot do without them, while the charm they lend
to the naturalistic one is keenly felt when they are
seen in some deserted garden, standing proudly erect
and making a struggle for their former prestige. They
can be grouped effectively in front of evergreens,
and as guardians of walls and fences they have few
rivals. Although often planted at the back of hardy
borders, they have there less raison d’étre than in most
other places. As the season advances, their lower leaves
become exceedingly large and heavy, and unless they
are taken off several times before the bloom occurs,
the less vigorous plants in front of them are apt to be
overpowered.

The range of color in hollyhocks is very great.
The yellow ones, the delicate pinks, and the white
ones are especially lovely. But although there has
been much improvement in the double varieties, they
have not the free grace of the single flowers; this is
similarly true of the double Shirley poppies, which
lack the enchantment of those that are without added
petals.

The bloom of the young plants is larger and finer
than that of individuals which have lived for several
years. The stalks, however, seldom grow over four

[ 184 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

feet high the first season. It is now customary to
sow the seeds every year, that a high standard of size
may be retained. Hollyhocks also, if not renewed,
are apt to blossom sparingly after the third year.

A native plant blooming in delightful shades of sky
blue, and of an exterior as handsome and cultivated
as that of the best China asters, is the Stokesia cyanea.
Indeed, over the annual asters it holds an advantage,
since being a perennial it does not have to be sown
and transplanted each season. Once well established
it will live, increase in size, and beautify a garden for
years. It grows about a foot high, the flowers appear-
ing almost too large for the plant. For borders where
the inclosed growth is gradually lowered to meet an
edging plant, it is highly attractive, but the Stokesia
really retains its individual beauty wherever it is
placed. The bloom, opening in July, lasts well into
October.

Burbank’s shasta daisy has proved satisfactory
in many gardens near the sea, its large showy flowers
being conspicuous from July to September. They
are not only ornamental in the garden, but very desir-
able for picking purposes.

For places where a rugged effect of color is desired,
the bee balm, or Oswego tea, Monarda didyma, is
often a good choice. Its flowers exhibit a very deep
red and grow so closely together in dense heads at
the top of the stems that the plants seem to be spread
with bloom. Bee balms, however, are for distant
observation; when viewed closely they appear a little
coarse and weedlike. Their great hardiness is their

[185 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

recommendation, and also that they blossom for at
least two months of the summer. They also are visited
by the beautiful hummingbird moth.

The purple loosestrife, Lythrum Salicaria, is more
elegant in its bearing than the bee balm, and equally
capable of producing a startling effect when luxuriant
masses of its rosy purple flowers are seen. In low,
almost wet ground, the plant is very desirable, since
it then spreads rapidly, claiming the place as its own
domain.

Both the Oswego tea and the loosestrife are to be
found among American wild flowers, and although
cultivation has somewhat improved them, I have inva-
riably found them very beautiful under the unmolested
treatment of nature. I have seen the loosestrife
when it covered acres of low land and grew so high
that its nodding tassels of bloom touched the stirrups
as my horse made his way with difficulty among the
entangled growth, where the marshlike ground gave
an uncertain footing. The only variation to its color
was given by many tall cattails.

The butterfly weed, Asclepias tuberosa, and the
cardinal flower, Lobelia cardinalis, are among other
North American wild flowers that have found a per-
manent place among the herbaceous plants of gardens.
The butterfly weed prefers a dry, rocky soil, and is
capable of producing wonderful effects with its dense
umbels of orange-colored flowers. It is undoubtedly
better adapted to the rockery than to either the garden
beds or borders.

The cardinal flower belongs in moist places where

[ 186 ]

PLATE L

PHLOX SS

aS

ULAS

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

green abounds. Its remarkable brilliancy of color
carries all else before it, fairly illuminating the
landscape.

A near relative, Lobelia syphilitica, shows blooms
in a pure and startling shade of blue. Like its relative,
it is also much cultivated in naturalistic places. Both
of these plants show the strong ruggedness of growth
that is noticeable with many of the midsummer wild
flowers.

Those that follow the seashore know well that in
certain places the first days of August show the large
blossom of the rose mallow, Hibiscus Moscheutos,
opening in uncountable numbers over the brackish
marshes. It is a true lover of the sea, one designed
by nature to endure its roughest caress. Of late it
has been successfully hybridized with one of the very
brilliant hibiscuses of the southern states, such a one
as I have seen along the shores of the St. John’s River,
shining like a light. The result has been a race of
so-called mallow marvels, which indeed bid fair to
live up to the extravagant promises of gorgeous beauty
and extreme hardiness made for them. In this new
race of plants is seen an American creation which no
doubt will become as popular in a short time as many
of the introductions from Japan.

These mallow marvels are suitable for cultivation at
the back of shrubbery and in many places where high
growth is required. They stand about eight feet tall.
The blossoms occur in white, pink, and various shades
of red, and their enormous size is a surprise to those
who have not seen their southern relatives.

[187 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

The leafage of these plants is more varied and finer
than that of the well-known rose mallow, and up to
the present time it is reputed, like that of peonies, to
be free from blights and insect pests. From the time
of the first bloom in August until the early frosts, there
is no flower that can vie with that of the mallow marvels
in size and gorgeousness, and most deservedly they
should prove an acquisition to gardens near the sea.

Golden glow, Rudbeckia lanceolata, and its kin,
Coreopsis grandiflora, the sneezeworts, or heleniums,
and various sunflowers and golden-rods are all excellent
plants for broad, brilliant effects such as go with the
days of waning summer and autumn. They should
invariably be kept in the background. As members
of outstanding clumps of planting, by fences, and
before shrubbery, they give much brightness. They
are a little too pronounced in character to come near
to the heart of the garden proper.

Plants more choice in personality, and especially
liked in intimate planting for bloom during the -sum-
mer and later season, are the monk’s-hood, Aconitum
autumnale, with spikes of quaintly shaped flowers
that gleam in shady places; the curious turtle heads,
Chelone Lyonit and glabra; the brilliant native gentians,
and the red-hot poker plants, Tritomas. These latter
plants are not so hardy as is often supposed and have
been found unable to winter well in many seaside
gardens. They should be planted in the spring in
situations not strongly exposed and be given later
a very warm winter cover, unless the severity of the
climate makes it necessary to take them up altogether

[ 188 ]

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

and to keep them in a dry place during the cold
weather. Tritoma express blooms a month earlier
than T. uvaria grandiflora.

Before I had seen the poker plant otherwise than
as a few spikes reared among promiscuous bloom, I
thought it very ugly; but recently in a small, exquisitely
planned garden near the sea, I saw a large mass of
it near an ornamental grass not unlike its own foliage.
There it was the most beautiful thing in the garden,
of pronouncedly high type and very gay. I saw it
later filling many vases in a large, imposing drawing-
room, and again felt the uniqueness of its beauty.

The Japanese windflower, Anemone Japonica, comes
into prominence in the autumn, recalling then by its
delicate beauty the flowers of early spring. It appears
well when massed and is useful to plant before clumps
of rhododendrons or other shrubs that have lost their
flowers before the windflower unfolds. It also combines
well for autumn effects with the monk’s-hood, Aconitum
autumnale.

Anemone Japonica alba is the well-known white
variety, and rosea the original one with pink flowers.
Other varieties bear double flowers, of which the white
“whirlwind” is perhaps the prettiest.

These anemones should be planted in the spring and
given a liberal covering of litter for over the winter.

There are so many kinds of perennial asters that a
catalogue should be consulted for those to bloom early,
others to bloom late, for those with flowers of purple,
blue, light pink, heliotrope, or white, and for those that
grow high, or those that keep near the ground.

[ 189 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Aster Nove-Anglie is the one best known, growing
in the wild beside golden-rod, and along the roadsides,
where it makes the gardener pause to wonder whether
he cannot duplicate the wonderful autumn effects
of nature. In fact, I have seen such wild planting
successfully imitated in front of the boundary fences of
a large estate. Many varieties of local asters were
there intermingled with golden-rod, while the stone
fences behind them were covered with Virginia creepers,
traveler’s joy, and other native vines. Their colors
blended most subtly with the autumn sky and atmos-
phere; no planting could have given less care or
pleased the senses more.

Among the feverfews there are those that serve
as border plant, Pyrethrum parthenifolium aureum, or
golden feather, being the favorite for this purpose.
There is as well the giant daisy, P. uliginosum, which,
while lifting high its head, throws out a mass of deli-
cate white flowers lasting well throughout the autumn.
As they complete the fine leafage of the tall stems and
move with the slightest breeze, they seem as soft and
active as the foam of the sea. Inthe boats of the accom-
panying illustration (plate lv.) they show their lack of
terror at its nearness, and give charm to a spot that
might otherwise be most desolate. I have known them
to defy the first frosts as stanchly as do the hardy
chrysanthemums.

Without these latter plants, no garden has its
just membership. They are the ones that apparently
hold back the winter. I recall one row of old-fashioned
hardy chrysanthemums that regularly lift their bloom

[ 190 ]

PLATE LI ADONIS VERNALIS

FAVORITE PERENNIALS

above the first snows of the season. In this garden,
not far from the sea, these chrysanthemums, in shades
of white and soft maroon, are usually very late in un-
folding, owing to their most unfavorable situation.
Earlier in the season, however, they hold their places
as foliage plants of a soft, unoffensive shade of green,
and as their buds are kept nipped off until the first
part of September, they are unusually bushy. When
at length their flowers open, they are greeted with
double gratitude, for they are the last of all, — the
farewell sign of the garden.

Spring is the time to plant, as well as to divide,
such hardy chrysanthemums. They like rich soil,
abundance of sunshine, and to be befriended by a
wall, the side of a house, or even a hedge. They then
increase with such rapidity that he who owns a few
may soon find himself the owner of a multitude.

There is a wholesome odor about these plants and
a general nattiness of expression that cannot fail to
please. There is also a large variety of them from
which to choose. Naturally, they are out of the class
of the marvelous Japanese and Chinese chrysanthe-
mums, the pride of shows and much petted by expert
gardeners. Glass houses and an infinite amount of
attention are the only conditions under which they
attain perfection, for in the climate of the northeastern -
United States they unfortunately are not hardy.

“Light of a thousand nights,” as one Japanese chrys-
anthemum is romantically called, will therefore not
lend to the seaside garden the enduring pleasure and
rugged beauty of its small pungently scented relatives.

[191 ]

CHAPTER XVI

AN IRIS GARDEN

near the sea, the flower-de-luce has entered, mak-

ing, to some minds, the rounded symmetry of the
rose appear unoriginal and the purity of the lily without
radiance. For in a way the rainbow flower is as much
a queen as the rose and infinitely more complicated
than the lily. It is a fantastic flower of much intricacy,
holding many surprises. Its colors, moreover, are of
pure and brilliant pigments that do not mar the trans-
lucence of its texture.

Ruskin calls it the flower of chivalry, “with a
sword for its leaf and a lily for its heart.” In the
early gardens of America, its place was acknowledged.
From year to year it lived, repeating its story to
succeeding generations.

To-day the old flower-de-luce has been reénforced
by relatives from distant parts of the earth, and is
seen in so many forms of various characteristics that
it is possible to have a garden entirely of irises and
yet to feel no sense of tameness.

Such a garden is the one at East Hampton, Long
Island, of which a few illustrations are herein repro-
duced. The photographs show admirably the lay of
the land of this garden, making clear also its relation

[192 ]

[= almost every garden, and especially those

AN IRIS GARDEN

to the house, and they give some idea of the abundance
of its bloom; but it is the water-color illustration
(plate lvi.) that represents its charm of color and the
sultry, poetic mist in which it is usually enveloped.

This garden has so completely embellished a low,
far-stretching strip of marshy ground that it has become
one of the most notable examples of iris planting in
this country. It is a beacon light, attracting visitors
from many directions; a water garden as well as an
iris garden.

At the termination of a broad lawn sloping down-
ward from the house, the garden is entered. Not by
any conscious act, however, merely it begins where the
lawn ends. And since, in truth, it is a water garden,
its paths are raised banks or dikes flanked by irises.
The water ways are spanned by bridges. It is then
at the end of these separate paths that two tea houses
are reached, inviting repose and a calm contemplation
of the regal flowers.

This water garden is, besides, so skilfully planted
that it appears replete with bloom from early spring
until the autumn. Its bloom, therefore, covers the
usual months of seaside residence, and during that time
it is so satisfying, so enchanting as a whole, that it
has banished the wish for other flowers.

Naturally, there is a time when the garden is more
laden with blossoms than in the late season, when it
is produced sparingly. At its high tide it seems to
have sacrificed every thought in the world to sumptuous
beauty. Then, the mistress of the garden relates,
each morning her gardeners take off about fifteen

[ 193 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

hundred faded flowers, sparing the garden in this way
the apparent tragedy of death. Yet in spite of this vast
number that disappear daily, there is, for a long time,
no diminution of splendor. Other flowers unfold to
take their places and are greeted by a kiss of sunshine
which lingers until they also fall under the hand of the
gardener.

This particular planning represents, more than any
other in the country, a Japanese garden of irises. It
is, however, built on so broad and so generous a scale
that few in the land of the Rising Sun can be more
impressive. Even the small trees through the garden,
and such other water growth as there exists, have a
look peculiarly adapted to the locality. Nature has
helped greatly to foster the perfection of this garden.

The Japanese irises prefer plenteous moisture.
I have noticed various varieties of them to be deeply
rooted in mud. Still, no one need desist from growing
irises because they can be given neither so moist and
pleasing a situation nor one so rich in mud. There
are varieties of irises that bloom lustily on sandy
ridges, and many kinds gallantly hide their chagrin
in surroundings of clay. Nevertheless, one has but
to glance at the wondrous bloom of the water garden
at East Hampton to dispel any other thought than
that the situation truly congenial for the greater number
of irises is a place of unstinted moisture.

The classes and varieties of irises herein grown are
numerous. The German irises, those formerly called
-flower-de-luce, and now more generally fleur-de-lis,
are conspicuous along the crest of the banks and

[194]

PLATE LII AQUILEGIA CALIFORNICA

AN IRIS GARDEN

wherever the soil is fairly dry and the location sunny.
For this group of irises, unlike the Japanese, is not
dependent on excessive moisture. They are the ones
that are seen in most gardens, outlining paths and
filling in broad spaces in borders. After their bloom
is past, their foliage is still attractive and very service-
able to define lines.

Among the Spanish irises, there are many lovely
forms of intricacy and exquisite colors. They are
early comers, unfolding in May before the majority
of German irises. They stand about two feet high
and bear fragrant flowers of quaint delicacy suggestive
of orchids. In white, blue, yellow, or golden bronze
they charm the eye, being apt to hold to one color
rather than to run into two or more.

Spanish irises should be planted in late August or
early September, that they may make a strong leaf
growth before the winter. The question of their har-
diness has not been definitely settled to their advan-
tage; and it is therefore a wise precaution, if they are
planted in a cold, exposed position, to cover them with
about four inches of straw or litter in the cool days
of November. As soon as their bloom has matured,
they die down completely.

These irises are not costly luxuries. They rank
with crocus corms in regard to cheapness. But in
appearance they are of the high world. One owner
of a beautiful garden told me that he cared for them
more than any other flowers. The varieties are
almost innumerable. They seed themselves freely,
and scientific gardeners have been rewarded for rais-

[195 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

ing them from seed by the production of many new
forms.

In the water garden they would open the season
were it not for the precocity of Iris pumila and its
hybrids, which are the earliest of all to show their
flowers. Even in late March, if the season is friendly,
the dwarf purple varieties open, while April greets
those of lilac and yellow. At several places I have
heard that these irises grow well on rocky ledges.

I. cristata is a charming dwarf iris of notable crest
and a native of the southern states. It never grows
more than six inches high, yet it has a perceptible
air of nobility and exquisite shades of blue and gold.

These small irises pave, as it were, the way for the
more conspicuous and large German varieties, which
in May begin to show an inclination to bloom.
Suddenly from the swordlike leaf the sheathed buds
appear. A shower and a visit of sunshine then unbar
their fetters with surprising rapidity. The finest and
the greatest number of flowers are seen on clumps that
have been long established. In fact, by dividing
them every few years and replanting their rhizomes
in deep, rich soil, they are saved from deterioration.

Among the German irises, which indeed are a bearded
company, Iris pumila and its intimates, as has already
been noted, are the first to open. The silver king
shows its flower fairly early in the season. This beauti-
ful iris, which is almost identical with the far-famed
Florentine, occurs in the softest, palest shade of blue,
turning at maturity to white with a silver sheen.
There is about it, besides, a delicate fragrance.

[ 196 ]

AN IRIS GARDEN

The Florentine iris, which also belongs to the group
Pallede, has long been famous not only for its snow-
white flowers, touched on the fall with blue, but for
its rhizomes, from which the grateful orris is? manu-
factured.

Iris lovers who have searched for these plants in
various parts of the earth, deeming the sport more
pleasant than that of hunting wild beasts, have related
that they found it in Algiers on the graves of the Arabs’
cemetery. So beguiled, I wandered through the Mus-
sulmans’ burial place from early noon until dusk, but
saw no trace of the Florentine iris. Other varieties
were there in numbers, small, cheery, and alert looking.
The air was heavily scented by them.

The Queen of May is a charming variety, foom:
ing comparatively early in a shade of rose lilac that
approaches pink. Madame Chereau is white and
distinctive, because of the small, parallel, blue veins
that run in a regular pattern along the edges of both
standard and fall. Its beard is faintly yellow.

There are now so many varieties of these beautiful
flags that to make a selection among them is often a
dificult task. Through hybridization the type of the
old violet blue flag has been able to show itself in an
infinite number of colors, ranging from deepest purple
to pale blue, rose, and white, and from bronze to faint
yellow.

Before the last of the German irises has left the
garden, the oriental ones are in full bloom. The Iris
Siberica, var. orventalis, has delicate foliage, resem-
bling somewhat that of the Japanese irises, only it is

[ 197 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

more slender and tinged with blood-red. The flowers
are intensely blue, the color being first betrayed by
the rich tones of the buds. From about the first to
the tenth of June, these irises blossom with great
generosity, seldom lagging or showing aught but a
keen desire to serve the garden. They are admirably
adapted for naturalization near water, although they
also do well in comparatively dry places.

After the Siberians have withered, the English
irises claim attention. They produce mostly four
flowers on a stem, and although their colors include
lilac, blue, rose, and purple, it may be that the pure
white ones are most lovely. Flowers of the Mont
Blane variety are frequently over four inches across
their centers.

As with the Spanish varieties, there is some doubt
about the complete hardiness of the English irises;
but to cover them with litter in the autumn is a simple
way out of the difficulty. The spring is the accepted
time for their planting.

When all has been said about the many groups of
irises, and when all praise has been given to their
multitudinous charms, there is still the Japanese iris,
I. levigata, or Kempfert, which has yet to find its rival
under the sun. It is the iris of irises—the one most
beautiful. It reserves its flower until late in the season,
opening first in late June or early July. When happily
situated, as in the water garden, it is not unusual for
its blooms to measure from ten to twelve inches in
width.

The ideal treatment for the noble group of levigata

[ 198 ]

AN IRIS GARDEN

is supposed to be to plant them in good bog earth. Yet
in the water garden many of them thrive in absolute
marsh land, even with their roots sunk deeply in
water.

Again, these irises will do well in dry ground so
long as they are supplied with abundant and frequent
drinks of water. In a border where the soil is not
particularly rich, I have made them grow and blossom
in sufficient luxury to astonish those unacquainted
with their results when given a better situation and
more copious moisture. This, nevertheless, was an
experiment. Ordinarily they will not do themselves
justice in dry places.

Of these Japanese irises, there are both single and
double varieties, and so many forms and colors of each
that to choose among them is often a matter of embar-
rassment. To make an unfortunate selection, however,
is hardly in the realm of the possible, since they seem
to have most skilfully banished hideousness and all
its attributes.

Although the iris holds in undisputed sway the
government of the East Hampton garden, there occur
in the shimmering water above which the dikes are
raised, many beautiful pond-lilies. They wait at the
feet of the irises and add to their fascinations with
a wealth of sweet scents and chaste loveliness; for
frequently in gardens one thing builds up another:
inspiration follows inspiration quickly. Had this garden
never been specialized for irises, an appropriate place
for these water-lilies might not have been found.

At many country places near the sea, besides the one

[ 199 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

at East Hampton, there are opportunities for the culti-
vation of water-lilies, and also the wonderful lotuses,
since springs can be converted into lakes, and small
brooks and ponds can be treated to make ideal homes
for aquatic plants. Such work is not done success-
fully, however, unless the plants are given an unusually
rich mixture of manure and mold in which to sink
their roots; for water-lilies, as roses, require to draw
nourishment from the soil most greedily. At least a
foot of well-enriched soil should be laid as a layer over
the natural bottom of lakes or streams in which most
water-lilies and lotuses are expected to grow perma-
nently. The latter like some clay in the soil mixture
where they root, that they may be held firmly.

Unless a glass house with suitable tanks is pro-
vided where tender varieties can be kept over the winter,
it is best to be content with growing the perfectly
hardy aquatics, among which, however, are many
very lovely water-lilies and the wonderful lotuses.
Although, when the cost of the practise is not heeded,
such tender varieties as the blue Zanzibars can be
bought every year, enjoyed throughout their season
of bloom, and then be allowed to perish when unable
to withstand the cold weather. In most places,
however, where extraordinary effects are not courted,
the hardy varieties of pond-lilies can be relied on to
embellish many sheets of fresh water near seaside
homes.

The lotus Nelumbium speciosum, the flower of
ancient impressive history, grows prodigiously when
given space and opportunity. It is even necessary

[ 200 ]

AN IRIS GARDEN

to thin it out from time to time, that the surface of the
water with its many reflections can be seen at intervals,
and the lotus not be allowed to give the impression of
arising from the earth.

Few nurserymen in America have devoted much
time to water-lily culture; still, there are growers who
are able to supply excellent aquatics, and to give
information concerning the tender and the hardy
varieties. In fact, a water garden, wherever feasible,
should be allowed to extend the interest of all those
who truly love flowers.

In building any sort of a seaside garden, the position
that irises are to hold is one of the first things to take
into consideration. For these plants should not be
moved about much before they have had time toincrease
in size and power. They are always distinctive plants,
owing to their bold clumps of swordlike leaves, and even
when out of flower they give character to their locality.

As the autumn sheds its light and coolness over
the water garden and the irises are no longer seen,
there occurs through the innumerable clumps of tall
leaves a rhythmic motion that is most enchanting.
The song that they sing is one of many changes, for
with high winds the leaves clash and strike together
like veritable swords. Again, with the sultriness of the
autumn haze, they settle down into a still, poetic lull.
The water is then likewise still. Soon the birds fly
away, and the fishes seem to gotosleep. For gradually
the uncontrollable frost pushes them out of their
places and holds the water garden tightly until the
return of spring.

[201 ]

CHAPTER XVII

THE GARDEN LILIES

: | "HERE is a personality about the lilies as
distinct as that of the roses. They also
have their lovers, who grow them to the exclu-

sion of other flowers — those who proclaim them the
king of flowers when roses are given the throne of the
queen. Indeed, it is without question that many lilies
are stately and very beautiful. The lily-of-the-valley,
on the contrary, one of the most generally beloved
connections of the family, has no air of kingship; for
it is not a lilium, although placed with them through
the power of association; rather it is the baby, the
innocent appearing, sweet flower that leads the liliums
in time of unfolding.

Happily, almost all lilies do well in gardens near
the sea, although the taller varieties should invariably
be placed where they need not combat high winds.
Against the frosts of winter their bulbs also need
protection in the way of a fairly heavy cover of litter
composed of lawn clippings, very old manure, or even
ashes. Otherwise, they require no more care than the
average perennials. While there is a difference in
the taste of garden lies, the majority of them like
a light, well-drained soil, and to grow where there is
shade under which they may nod their pretty heads.

[ 202 ]

Briss
RUS

THE GARDEN LILIES

Early in May, flower lovers look for the lily-of-the-
valley, Convallaria majalis, which should then be found
in some snug spot visited by both shade and sun.
Often it is to be seen outside the garden proper,
owing to its permanence and the rapidity with which
it increases its dominion. Where the soil is deep and
well drained and enriched with leaf mold, the lily-of-
the-valley is apt to bloom in great profusion. One of
the largest beds, or rather unrestricted masses, of these
plants that I know yields each season thousands of
sprays of exquisitely scented, unusually large May
bells.

When a new bed is made for these plants, it should
be done in time to allow the pips to be set out late in
the autumn. The following spring they begin early to
show their eagerness to extend their boundaries. In
fact, when they crowd too closely together, they can be
taken up and transplanted on the outskirts of the bed,
or in whichever direction it is desired that it should
stretch. The spaces they leave then fill up quickly
through the natural increase of the neighboring pips.

After the bloom is passed, the leaves of the lily-
of-the-valley still form dwarf, compact masses of verdure
covering places which, in many cases, it would be
dificult to treat were it not for this delightful little
plant. It is, in truth, an American wild flower, being
localized in the higher mountains of the Alleghanies,
where it inhales a humid atmosphere.

In June, opens the beautiful Madonna, or Annuncia-
tion, lily, Laliwm candidum. It stands about six feet
high at its best and bears on each stalk many pure

[ 203 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

white fragrant flowers. It is the earliest of the tall
garden lilies to bloom, and is thought by many to be
the most beautiful on account of its look of unspotted
purity. It is not unlike the Bermuda lily, LZ. Harrisi,
although its flowers are more open and their tubes
considerably shorter than those of the Eastertime
favorite. The Madonna lilies like the sun. I have
seen a great bed of them gleaming under its rays like
whitened silver.

As with all lilies that blossom early in the season,
the bulbs of the Madonna lily should be planted in
the autumn, as they can then make considerable
growth before the cold weather. When they are
divided, which is periodically necessary on account of
the rapidity of their increase, it should also be done in
the early autumn or as soon as their stalks have turned
yellow. Fortunately, they are bulbs that can be
secured early.

Sometimes it is impossible to obtain the bulbs
imported from Japan or other countries before
November, in which case their bed should be prepared
in advance for their reception and covered with leaves
or litter that will prevent the ground from freezing
before they can be planted. When the shipments of
bulbs are especially late, many nurserymen carry them
over the winter in pots, that they may thus be kept
in readiness for spring planting.

Of the Japanese lilies that now hold so prominent
a place in many gardens, the golden-banded lily, L.
auratum, is the most stately and the best known. It
grows tall and bears a large number of most beautiful

[ 204 ]

THE GARDEN LILIES

white flowers daintily spotted with crimson and marked
distinctively with a band of gold extending from the
base to the tip of each petal. Ten or twelve inches
below the surface of the earth is none too deep to plant
these bulbs, as they are then afforded protection from
frost and the possible drought of the summer. The
golden-banded lily thrives best in the shade, although
time and again I have seen it blooming, not indif-
ferently, in places flooded with sunlight. When it is
planted in a hardy border or in garden beds of sunny
exposure, it should be given at least the shade of other
tall plants. It cannot brook manure, caring simply
for a light, rich soil.

Frequently these lilies are seen intermingled with
rhododendrons and various other shrubs, where they
are of inestimable value, since they blossom after the
shrubs have lost their flowers. The bulbs, moreover,
take little ground space, while sending above a wealth
of unrivaled bloom.

Auratum vittatum rubrum is a variety seen less
often than the auratum, although it is also very beau-
tiful and noticeable because of its unspotted white
flowers broadly banded with crimson. I have seen
the flower ten inches in width and have been held
long by its fragrance.

L. Batemannia, also a Japanese variety, blooms, like
the auratum, in July and August. Its flowers are not so
large as many others, and are a clear, unspotted apricot
yellow. Six or eight of them appear on each stem. For
many places in gardens where brightness and cheer are
desired, this lily forms an admirable choice.

[ 205 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

L. speciosum rubrum, another lovely and most popu-
lar lily of Japan, is particularly hardy and free in its
branching habit of growth. The variety is particularly
popular, the flowers being white, shaded with rose,
and spotted with red of a deep rich tone. Once planted,
this lily, like many others, practically looks after
itself, requiring little care from garden builders, but
holding strongly their admiration. L. speciosum album,
the pure white variety, is very lovely and fragrant.

In August, the speciosum lilies open, and frequently
the first frost finds them a prey to its sting. Rubrum
likes a place partly shaded; album prefers the full sun.

L. Henryi, the strikingly beautiful speciosum,
while coming from northern China, is perfectly hardy
in the greater number of American gardens near the
sea. It grows vigorously to the height of about six
feet, and its flowers are deep apricot yellow, strongly
spotted with brown.

L. Hansoni is a bright golden Japanese lily, which
seldom grows higher than three feet. Sometimes it
is especially planted because it blossoms in June.

One of the most exquisite lilies for garden culture
is the longiflorum, so named from its long, trumpet-
shaped flowers of pure white. It stands about two feet
high and greatly resembles in general appearance the
well-known Bermuda lily.

The Japanese elegans lilies, of which there are a
number of varieties producing darkly spotted flowers
in separate tones of yellow, orange, crimson, or buff,
are noteworthy on account of their great hardiness,
and also because they produce their effects in June

[ 206 ]

NOPOREV SD USE V AN CET IAT ULV Td

THE GARDEN LILIES

and July. They do not grow high, two feet at the
most, and they bear generously ten or twelve flowers
on each stem. As with all lilies of their strong colors,
they appear best when planted among shrubbery or
in woody places where few colors disturb the Snerunas
ing greenness.

This is also true, I think, of tiger lilies, each
found in old-time gardens. There are double and
single Tigrinums and a really fine scarlet variety,
Tigrinum splendens, which is deeply spotted with black.
Tiger lilies increase rapidly and are very loth to give
up soil that they have once occupied. Although their
lovers are many, I do not count myself among them.
But then I care for none of the yellow garden lilies
as much as for the infinitely lovely white ones, and even
they should be most fitly set or they give to the
surrounding plant life a disjointed appearance.

Once through a strip of wild woodland planting,
I saw many auratum lilies unfolded in early August.
The gardener had planted them there because the
soil was light and rich and the shade sufficient.
They bore upward of thirty and forty lilies to a stalk,
but, to my thinking, they were entirely out of place
in that quiet, naturalistic garden. For the formal
garden, however, whether large or small, these lilies
are charming. They are as necessary to it as holly-
hocks, helping it to blend with the landscape, against
which they make striking pictures. Yet it is often
a melancholy fact that the highly formal garden is
lacking in the very shade that these lilies love so well.

For naturalistic effects, wild borders and the like,

[ 207 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

there are still the native lilies, with personalities pecul-
iarly adapted to such places.

L. superbum, the “Turk’s cap” lily, is as much a
child of light woodland growth as the bee balm and
Solomon’s seal. Its flowers of bright orange are com-
posed of petals sufficiently recurved to suggest a
Turk’s cap, and they are marked attractively with
purple.

The meadow lily, L. Canadense, is one of the most
graceful of the native species, with nodding, delicate
flowers, clear yellow and dots of black. The deep red
variety is called L. Canadense rubrum.

L. Philadelphicum, the wild red, or wood lily,
holds its orange-red, solitary flower erect, and makes
itself known by the peculiarity of narrowing its petals
toward their base. It is one of the most brilliant
inhabitants of the wild garden.

These native lilies mostly like the seclusion of
shade and a light, moist soil, and once well established
they live and bloom for generations.

Funkias, a race of plants with effective decorative
flowers, are in no sense of the word lilies of the true
order. Still, they pass generally as day lilies, the form
of their bloom having suggested the name, and they hold
in the garden a close association with its more lordly
inhabitants. It is for these reasons that they are
included in this chapter.

Funkia subcordata is the white day, or plantain,
lily that invariably held a conspicuous place in the
early gardens of this country. Its clumps of broad,
handsome leaves were much used in borders leading

[ 208 ]

PLATE LVII SPANISH IRISES

THE GARDEN LILIES

to the entrance gate, and long after the spikes of bloom
had faded, they maintained a bold, attractive presence.
In modern gardens the variety designated as F’. undulata
variegata is regarded as a better plant for the edging
of beds.

The very tall variety is F. Japonica, lifting its
flowering stalk upward of six feet high. It bears blue
flowers, which is also the habit of such varieties as
lancifolia, cerulea, and others.

These day lilies do best in places that are free
from intense midsummer sun, yet they do not like a
dense shade, preferring abundant light and air.

To give their best effect, lilies should be planted in
groups rather than as single specimens. The height of
many of the varieties, moreover, is of immense advan-
tage in bringing certain sections of the garden into
prominence. The candidum forms most lovely com-
binations with the June-blooming German irises.

A garden without lilies or plants of similar person-
alities is like one without roses. In excluding them,
it has failed to touch the inner circle of aristocratic
flowers. Naturally, all lilies are not appropriate for
all gardens; but for every one, no matter what its
character, it seems as if there were some variety that
only awaits the call to embellish it with majestic
grace. The white lilies in a garden appear never to
pale. Even in the twilight they act as beacon lights
along the pathways.

[ 209 ]

CHAPTER XVIII

GARDENS OF ROSES

EN the love of flowers dwells in the heart,
\ \ / even in the smallest degree, it must, sooner
or later, make itself felt in a desire to
grow the rose. In fact, I have known people who truly
loved a rose while regarding other flowers with utter
indifference. The rose is very satisfying. It is not
only its rounded, well-developed beauty that pleases; it
has besides translucent color, the charm of fragrance,
and an upright, gracious personality with which no
other flower can compare. The rose, moreover, is gen-
erous in temperament. About it there is nothing small
or calculating. It holds its own; it can defy the sea.
Many of the oldest and most far-famed rose gardens
of this country have been located in towns bordering
the coast. And with the expression, “an old rose
garden,” there arises a wealth of sentiment and imagi-
native fragrance. Nothing in nature is more beauti-
ful, more completely alluring. Even old, uncared-for
bushes often send out their flowers in uncountable
numbers, making great patches of color on the land-
scape. It seems as if they would make up by this means
for their diminished size and their lessened ‘perfection.
Indeed, from an old rose garden the aroma of romance
can never quite fade away.
[ 210]

GARDENS OF ROSES

The rose prefers a garden of its own. It does not
like to fraternize with flowers of other classes. When
made to do so, it is always at the expense of the beauty
and health of the rose. Unlike some individuals, how-
ever, it is worthy to be humored.

Naturally, the rose will not thrive directly in face
of the sea. It must find its abiding place at a sufficient
distance from it to protect it against rough, wild moods
and also saline spray. It is no kin of the sea heath
or sea lavender. While the rose does not object to
the sea, it preserves its friendship for it with much
discretion. Under no circumstances is the rose a
lover of high winds, although it is necessary for its
welfare that it should enjoy a free circulation of air.
It likes repose, deep, rich, and sultry.

The garden that is set aside for roses should, if
possible, have an exposure from north to south rather
than from east to west. Even then, in order to pro-
tect it from the wind, it is often necessary to set around
it low shrubbery, rhododendrons, clipped spruces, or
more enchanting still, such hedge roses as the rugosa
varieties or hybrids. When very near the sea, it is
frequently necessary to shelter it even on the southern
side. Still, a rose garden must not be a place of too
much shade. Sunshine must dwell there for at least
part of the day. It must, in fact, have an entrance
for the sun and an exit for the wind. Large trees are
not desirable near a rose garden. Their shade is too
abundant and their extending roots absorb too much
nourishment from the soil.

In many seaside places, I have seen successful rose

[ 211]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

gardens snuggled up rather closely to the house, which
then formed their wind-break. The sun could play
over them from his early uprising in the east until
two or three o’clock in the day, after which time they
rested in complete shade. Sunshine and shade, an
abundance of air, and yet protection from high winds,
are among the requirements of a rose garden.

Nor is the soil of such a place a matter to pass
over lightly. Roses, although it seems a bit unfeeling
to accentuate the point, are the greediest feeders of
almost any plants. They like rich nourishment given
to them very freely.

The danger concerning the soil of many seaside
gardens is that it may be too light, sandy, or gravelly
to give these plants the firm hold that is essential. In
this case, it should be mixed with heavy loam or even
with clay. Roses will not do well in a soil that attaches
them loosely; they need to be held firmly.

Rose beds should be made deep. Usually they are
dug out to the depth of about eighteen inches, covered
with a thick layer, or one-third filled with well-decom-
posed manure, and finally completed with rich turfy
loam and top soil. They should then be given about
two weeks in which to settle, before any planting is
attempted. This is a plain, simple rule for making a
rose bed, yet one that has been tried and found satis-
factory over and over again. From time to time, it
is necessary to give the plants additional nourish-
ment; but with their bed thus deeply and richly made,
they have at least an opportunity to start well in the
garden.

[212]

GARDENS OF ROSES

At the time of planting, all budded stock should
be placed deeply in the ground, the joint being at
least three inches below the level of the bed. The
roots, moreover, should be spread out like a hand
resting on the bottom of the hole, and invariably
the soil should be packed about them firmly. Then
for two weeks after they are set they should be kept
well moistened.

It is true that roses will grow and bloom apart from
the practise and conditions herein mentioned, since
they are very hardy. They will not live, however,
in full luxuriance. They will merely exist, being too
gallant to die. Blooms that should be six or seven
inches across will be but two or three. Stems that
should be stiff and sturdy will be limp and thin. It
takes some knowledge of roses to establish for them
the proper standards. One young woman, of whom I
have heard, boasted broadcast of the beautiful roses
that grew in her garden, and there, to be sure, many
bushes did live and bloom. The air was redolent with
their perfume. They were not such roses, however,
as a rosarian would prize, one who knew the possi-
bilities of the varieties and how far the quoted flowers
fell short of their recognized standards. The garden
was indifferently situated, the stock originally bought
was poor, and the soil was not sufficiently enriched.
There was almost a pathetic side to the delight which
they gave their owner.

Still, it is one thing to grow roses well and another
thing to grow show roses or to bring the blooms to
their highest state of perfection. The majority of

[21S

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

seaside dwellers in this country endeavor to give their
roses ample opportunities to show their beauty. They
encourage their abundance and desire them for orna-
mentation and picking purposes rather than for per-
fection in individual flowers.

It is a mistake to suppress the desire to grow roses
because of the oft-repeated plaint about the insects
that attack them, and the supposed complications of
their pruning. Both of these troubles, if such they are,
can be controlled by persistence and judgment.

That sooner or later insects will attack the rose
bushes may be taken as a foregone conclusion. But
if they are kept up to a high standard of health and
vigor, they will pass through the scourge practically
unharmed.

Kerosene emulsion and a solution made by boiling

the stems of tobacco until the water covering them is
about the strength of weak tea are both insecticides
that can be used to keep the green fly, the rose hopper,
the red spider, the aphides, and other marauders in
check. The rose bug, of disagreeable temperament,
can stand unceasing applications of insecticides before
forsaking the bushes. Leaf rollers have usually to
be picked off by hand.
‘When mildew appears on the foliage, it should be
dusted early in the morning, while still moist with
dew, with flowers of sulphur. This must, however,
be done as soon as the trouble appears, otherwise it
will avail nothing.

Pruning is a matter that should be governed largely
by individual judgment. Some plants are so neat and

[ 214 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

compact in their manner of growth that they need but
slight clipping, while others require severe treatment
to keep them within their natural limits.

When the rose bushes are uncovered in the spring,
as soon as the frost has left the ground, they should,
unless under unusual circumstances, receive their
annual pruning. Then one-half or two-thirds of the
previous season’s growth should be cut away.

Climbing roses, unless for special reasons, should
have their weakly and cross branches cut out and the
unripe tips of the other branches pruned slightly.

Standards also should have their shoots cut back
in late March, possibly to four buds.

It is a safe rule among all classes of roses to prune
the weak growers severely; strong growers can be
clipped more sparingly.

When the spring pruning is over, it is a help to roses
to have a handful of bonemeal stirred in about their
base.

At present, it seems to be the custom to plan rose
gardens in formal designs, the flowers being somewhat
exclusive in temperament. In fact, the wisdom of
the formal rose garden is realized as soon as it is remem-
bered that these plants are sticklers about being kept
by themselves. It has even been claimed that certain
varieties do better when planted in a bed which they
alone control, than if several other varieties are inter-
mingled with them. The hardy and hybrid perpetual
roses, and those that are monthly or ever-blooming,
should invariably be kept apart, since the latter require
much heavier winter covering than the former, and,

[ Bis |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

not growing so large, are apt to be overshadowed by
the more hardy bushes.

Roses, in truth, are admirably adapted to the plan
of a number of formally designed beds which yet hold
together and form a complete design. It can be either
large or small. In places where space is limited, the
prettiest effects are secured by keeping to an exceed-
ingly simple scheme.

So much depends, when a rose garden is planned,
upon the position of the land, the number of available
feet and inches, the exposure, and the surrounding
landscape, that to give general directions for the work
would be futile. Once such a garden is scientifically
laid out, however, there often seems to be an occult
sense which fosters its completion, producing effects
little dreamed of in the beginning, and opening unex-
pected vistas for the future.

Almost invariably a certain amount of fashion
enters into the formal rose garden, for it is encouraged
by architects and is highly pleasing to skilled gardeners.
Yet sometimes I have thought that the power of many
old-time rose gardens lurked in their absolute freedom
from fashion, almost from the dictates of law and order.
The mistress of the garden planted a bush here, another
there, guided by this very occult sense which surely
lies hidden in the vicinity of rose gardens. She hardly
realized then the wondrous effects that years of growth
would bring to her planting ground.

With the years, roses have also multiplied and multi-
plied again. It is not enough to-day to know that a
rose is a rose possibly of simple English ancestry, and

[ 216 }

PLATE LIN JAPANESE IRISES IN THE WATER GARDEN

GARDENS OF ROSES

of red, white, or yellow. It may be the hybrid of a
hybrid having the rose in some far distant garden as
its ancestor.

Many early rose gardens of this country grew with
pride the beautiful Caroline Testout as well as the
general favorite, Merveille de Lyon. To-day the off-
spring of these two roses, the Frau Karl Druschki,
is the white rose of white roses in modern gardens.
Its beauty is similar to that of a perfect bit of sculpture.
The absolute whiteness of the rose, without tinge of
yellow or blush, is one of its unusual features, while
the lack of luster on the petals gives it the mat finish
of marble. The bud is like a pigeon’s egg, unfolding
leisurely into the glorious flower. The Frau Karl
Druschki, as its name indicates, was bred in Germany.
In every American rose garden to-day it should have
a place. It is more beautiful than either of its parents,
although very feeble in its perfume. Still the Caroline
Testout and the Merveille de Lyon are roses of such
excellent habit and striking beauty that it would be a
pity not to grow them in the garden.

Hybrid Perpetual Roses

Frau Karl Druschki belongs among the hardy,
hybrid, perpetual roses that fairly claim the month
of June as their own. It is their day in all truth,
the time when rose gardens fairly glow and smile
in the sunshine. These roses have mostly rough leaves
of five leaflets. When vigorous shoots appear, showing
smoother leaves and seven leaflets, they are generally
upstarts from the Manetti stock on which the roses

ber |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

are budded and should invariably be removed at the
base. The majority of hybrid perpetuals are fragrant,
and many of them by judicious pruning can be induced
to bloom several times during the summer instead of
only through June. Mrs. John Laing is especially
noted for continuing its bloom longer than the recog-
nized period, and Frau Karl Druschki produces a few
flowers well through the summer. This rose is a good
offset to the American beauty, the most generally
cultivated, hardy hybrid, perpetual in America.

Indeed, there is no need to describe this rose. Its
noble bearing and its sweet, spicy fragrance are known
to all. In the center of one rose garden, I have seen a
circular bed filled with American beauties. They were
not young plants, and had grown into large bushes
sending up stems approaching a height of five feet.
Their blooms would have made a sensation in a florist’s
window had they been forced into occurring out of
season. In their natural place in the rose garden,
however, they looked infinitely more beautiful than
under any circumstances that severed them from the
bush.

It is sometimes a matter of question how to plant
the center of a rose garden so that it shall give character
to the whole and yet not strike so high a key that
the small, outlying beds are placed at a disadvantage.
In the month of June, the central feature of American
beauties above mentioned was a success. It gave
height and strength to the entire garden and it also
held these radiant beauties apart so that their color,
which is somewhat damaging to other reds and crim-

[218 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

sons, could be seen at its best and not as a discordant
note. Just how this garden was affected when these
bushes were out of bloom, I do not know. But, as has
been mentioned, the American beauty does not entirely
lose its flowers with June, and even if it did the bushes
are so powerful, the foliage so strong and unmis-
takably green, that, while the bed might cease to draw
attention, it still would not be detrimental to the
garden.

The teas and hybrid tea roses hardly make large
enough bushes to hold the center of a garden. When
one is composed entirely of them, a sundial or some
other bit of garden furniture is often found useful to
give it height and dignity.

Again, there are rose gardens that have no particular
center, as I once saw illustrated by a beautiful garden
planted in the lee of evergreen trees, from where it
spread out irregularly over a fine bit of turf. The beds
in this garden were mostly in geometrical designs, —
stars, crescents, rectangles, and circles, — and they were
planned really more for the convenience and number
of each kind of rose that they held than for the effect
of the garden as a whole. In general, however, the
hybrid perpetuals were kept at the back comparatively
near the evergreens, while the teas gradually tapered
the planting down to the grass. Yet, here and there,
tall members pushed forward to dispel the idea
that the garden had been laid out with any such
definite scheme. It had no boundary or line of demarca-
tion unless it were the strong bulwark of evergreens
well at its rear. And this garden was very beautiful.

[ 219 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Through the combined use of the June roses and the
monthlies, it never went completely out of bloom,
while with few exceptions there was enough life and
color to indicate something of its beauty at the time of
its great outpouring.

In this garden there was a notable bed filled with
the Baroness Rothschild, and another not far distant
with Clio roses. The former is one of the most satis-
factory hybrid perpetuals in existence. Its globular,
cup-shaped flowers are replete with petals of bright
rose and at their best are of immense size. It is,
however, the manner of the setting of the blossom on
the stem that is most striking. The canes are stout
and erect and uphold the flower so as to give it a
stately look well worthy the queen of flowers. It is
one of the few roses of this class that are practically
scentless.

Frequently the Baroness Rothschild blooms two
or three times during the season instead of confining
itself to the month of June. It is not troubled to any
great extent by insect attacks, nor is it subject to
mildew. It is almost as pronounced an individual
in a garden as the American beauty.

The Clio, which is somewhat on the order of the
Baroness Rothschild, is a paler rose; the flowers of
flesh color, while deepening at the center to deep
pink, bleach, as they open, to almost white. Yet, the
plant itself is very vigorous and one of the most prolific
in flowering. A number of these roses planted in a
bed produce a mass of delicate color that is advan-
tageous to tone down the superabundance of reds and

[ 220 ]

ATIT SOLOT GHL XT GALVId

GARDENS OF ROSES

carmines which are apt to become a bit pronounced
in many rose gardens.

Among other hybrid perpetuals of pink, none are
finer than Paul Neyron, with its very double, delicately
scented flowers occurring in immense size, the largest,
perhaps, of any pink rose. It has graced innumerable
rose gardens and has been the cynosure of many eyes
at rose shows. It blooms, incidentally, throughout
the summer and is always lovely.

Mrs. R. G. Sharman-Crawford has also held a
conspicuous place at rose shows, where to the admira-
tion of many it lifted blossoms of deep rose, dwindling
in the outer petals to a pale blush. At the base of the
petals the color vanishes. There they are pure white.
It is, nevertheless, a rose for the simplest garden, even
though it has long been conspicuous at great gatherings
of the famous.

Countess of Rosebery reverses the order of the
Mrs. R. G. Sharman-Crawford. Its petals are a clear
shining pink in the center and darken as they extend
outward to a deep rose. It looks almost as if composed
of two distinct colors. It is far from being a new rose,
but firmly holds its place as one of the most attractive
inhabitants of the garden.

Mrs. John Laing blossoms unusually freely, bearing
exquisite pink flowers on long and stout stems, which
make them desirable for cutting purposes. The buds,
besides, have a charm of their own, being long and
inclined to taper almost to a point.

Madam Gabrielle Luizet is also a pink rose, blended
and shaded with faint lavender until it looks to have

[ 221 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

a silver sheen. It blooms in great profusion and its
faint, sweet fragrance makes it of added value to gather
and arrange for bouquets.

There is no doubt that a rose never appears so well
as when on the bush, growing in the open. Still,
as bouquets, especially those of roses, are a great acquisi-
tion to the home in summer, it is worth while to plant
a few varieties that are desirable for picking purposes.

It is also to the advantage of most rose bushes to
pick their blossoms freely. Sometimes owners of a
rose garden are perplexed to know whether to pick
the flowers for the good of the bushes and to decorate
the home, or whether to leave them to glorify the garden.
Early in the morning the full-blown roses should be
gathered, cutting the stems as long as possible or down
to where the new growth meets the old. Even then
enough half-blown roses and buds will be left to make
the garden a mass of flowers again by noon.

It seems that roses love to unfold best at break of
day when the robins begin to sing. I have seen bushes
at dusk from which every full-blown flower had been
cut and which then showed no sign of immediately
putting forth others. Still, as early in the morning as
the world considers it respectable to arise, they upheld
opened flowers, no hint of which had been given in the
preceding twilight. Even when the nights are cold
and rainy the same thing occurs, the flowers opening
to greet the new day.

It is, moreover, at this time the delights of which
have been sung more than once, that a rose garden is
most inspiring. There is then the freshness of dew and

[ 222 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

scent about it that moderates greatly as the day wears
on. The roses do not become less beautiful, but merely
heated and overpowered by the sun. Often then the
moisture cast by the sea is most grateful.

In planting a rose garden, unless the list of chosen
roses is scanned again and again, there is almost a
certainty that the abundance of color will rest with
red and its different expressions, scarlet, crimson,
carmine, maroon, magenta, and the like. Undoubtedly,
these shades are all brilliant and gay in a garden. To
many minds there is no rose in the world so beautiful as
areal red rose — such a one, perchance, as the General
Jacqueminot, or the hybrid teas, Liberty and Richmond.

Nevertheless, pink roses can be easily outshone by
being placed too near those of the more dominant
colors, and since they are in themselves infinitely
charming, it should be a matter of care to place them
where they run no chance of being hurt by violent
clashes with the multitudinous company of reds in
the garden. The white roses can always be used to
form a barrier between the two.

Again it seems as if a clash of colors were impossible
in a rose garden. I remember one large bed of roses
planted promiscuously with bushes offered at a great
reduction in price by a traveling salesman. As soon
as their buds began to open, it was seen with dismay that
each one of the bushes was bent on bearing red roses,
not reds of the same class but of every shade conceiv-
able. It may seem strange, but this very bed proved to
have a pronounced charm. As the variously toned roses
unfolded, the surrounding green of the foliage kept

[ 228 |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

them from interfering with each other and despoiling
their individual beauty. The buds that merely showed
color, the ones that were half open, and the fully blown
flowers all blended indescribably with the spirit of the
rose, giving abundant pleasure. In formal gardens,
beds of red roses are usually planted with one variety
exclusively, that a fine bit of strong brilliant color
may be assured, the deep rich shadow of the entire
garden.

Ulrich Brunner is a hardy hybrid perpetual some-
times used for this purpose. It is full and gracefully
shaped and of brilliant carmine, with high lights of
scarlet. This rose, moreover, disposes of the old adage;
for Ulrich Brunner is without thorns.

Prince Camille de Rohan has long been a favorite,
hardy, hybrid perpetual with which to form beds or
to plant among others of its class. It has great beauty.
About its color there is a tinge of maroon not always
liked by the hypercritical, since when cut it appears
to intensify, especially as the flowers grow old. Still
the maroon shadings of Prince Camille de Rohan
approach almost to black, which fact altogether robs
it of disagreeable effect. It is the darkest colored
rose of all and of especially fine, velvet-like texture.

Madame Charles Wood, one of the best of the scarlet
roses, soon loses this dazzling color, passes into crimson,
and before it dies is almost suffused with maroon.
It is also one of the most generous bloomers of the red,
hybrid perpetuals, showing its color two or three times
during a season, provided its flowers are cut regularly
and the plants pruned in a way to induce the form-

[ 224 ]

PLATE LXI LILIUM SPECIOSUM RUBRUM

GARDENS OF ROSES

ing of new shoots. These blooms are delightfully
fragrant.

Anna de Diesbach forms a robust bush and is
prolific with its very full and carmine-colored roses.
Victor Verdier should find a place in every rose garden.
About its carmine petals there is a decided outline
of purple. The Magna Charta, although of clear
rose red, is tinted here and there with crimson running
to violet. Louis Van Houtte, Alfred Colomb, Baronne
de Bonstetten, and an infinite number of others are
among the tried and beautiful members which wave the
red standard of rose gardens.

Roses of the hybrid perpetual class are usually
so hardy that an amateur is almost sure to succeed in
growing them. Often in this very success he finds
the inspiration to extend the garden and to include
those of more delicate nature, even striving, perhaps,
for show roses. Many a rose grower, on the contrary,
has been completely discouraged because he started his
garden with the less hardy monthly roses and knew
not how to take care of them. Then, in despair, he
laid down his arms when his roses failed to meet with
his expectations.

Hybrid perpetuals, while responding to expert
care, will nevertheless live and bloom through seasons
of neglect, which they strive to bear with smiling
faces. A deserted rose garden is a pitiable sight.
I have seen only one of any extent and that was where
the home as well as the garden had been forsaken,
while those in various parts of the world disputed the
ownership of the estate. Even there, the hybrid per-

[ 295 |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

petuals strove to bloom in spite of being almost choked
to death by weeds and various grasses. The monthlies
had long since given up the attempt to live.

There is something, moreover, very satisfactory
about the size attained by the perpetual rose bushes.
They do not swing their flowers well over the heads of
their admirers, as is true of many of the climbers, nor
is it necessary to get down to them as is often required
in the case of the ever-blooming bushes. They meet
those that seek them halfway, holding their blossoms
at a level where they can be scanned without discom-
fort. They are, in truth, fairly good sized shrubs laden
with the most wondrous flowers of all.

Of white roses among the hybrid perpetuals, there
are many that vie with each other in exquisiteness of
outline and nearness to purity in their particular color,
or rather lack of color. Indeed, there is seldom seen
a white rose that has thrown off all color; either they
are slightly tinged with yellow or flushed with pink.
The Frau Karl Druschki (page 217) is, perhaps, the
most purely white of any rose.

Margaret Dickson approaches it closely in absence of
color. This rose, moreover, attains an extraordinarily
large size, having its petals attractively reflexed.

Madame Plantier is among the best of hardy white
roses, blooming almost continually. Perle des Blanches
is as fine a white rose as Margaret Dickson. Perfection
des Blanches and Coquette des Alps are both beautiful,
the latter being tinged with pale blush. Coquette
des Blanches is of medium size and blooms in clusters,
showing also a slight flush over its white flowers.

[ 226 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

Madame Alfred Carriére produces flowers that
are very double and fragrant. Their color is ivory
white, with a tinge of yellow. Boule de Neige bears
flowers more solidly white, seldom noticeably large,
but of exquisite fragrance, in itself a rare charm.

The rose named Gloire Lyonnaise is invariably
a notable member of the garden, holding a place between
the whites and the yellows. In the long, pointed bud,
and also when first open, the petals are a rich cream
white. Shortly, however, they turn to salmon yellow,
intensified at the center. It is very beautiful, and
blooms with the length of period that is associated
with a hybrid tea more than with a hardy perpetual.

There are few who do not love yellow roses, not for
themselves only, but because they give a cheer like
sunshine in the garden. Among the perpetual class
they are not so numerous as those of other colors,
and many complain that they are less hardy. Har-
rison’s yellow is one of the old-time roses universally
regarded as hardy and very lovely. It is not now
generally seen, but still well worth seeking and giving
a conspicuous setting.

The soleil d’or rose, which has proved hardy,
although perhaps not of easy culture, shows among
its petals as many shades of yellow flamed with red as
the renowned Azalea mollis. It is one of the most
distinctive roses now grown, and is in a class by itself,
not belonging strictly to the hybrid perpetuals.

The Persian yellow rose is well known and very
hardy. The scent of its flowers is not at all alluring
but rather distinctly disagreeable — a statement which

[ 227]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

seems strange in connection with a rose. When
planted for distant effect, this peculiarity does not
matter so much as when the bushes stand in the way of
the flower seeker. As a rule the Persian yellow will
not bloom well if too closely pruned.

Naturally, there are other hybrid perpetual roses
which possess much merit and extend in numbers
fairly in the hundreds. To sing the praises of them all
would, indeed, take little short of a lifetime. The few
herein mentioned have been included simply because
they almost always prove satisfactory when grown in
gardens near the sea.

Moss Roses

In some nook of the garden, the moss rose bush
should stand replete in its gentle beauty. And, once
planted, this class of rose becomes as permanent as
the flowers of the fields. The white moss, with its
delicate blush, is very lovely, also the variety called
Princess Adelaide, which holds under its mosslike
sepals flowers of veritable rose. The glory of mosses
almost hides its pink buds in sepals like dense moss,
while the white, sweet flowers of Blanche Moreau are
produced in clusters.

Monthly or Ever-blooming Roses

When it comes to the so-called ever-blooming
roses, including the teas and the hybrid teas, it is
again an embarrassment of choice, since their number
is large and added to each year through the skill of
the rose grower. This class of roses blooms more or

[ 228 ]

SUMMER

THE ABUNDANCE OF

& LNII

PLATI

GARDENS OF ROSES

less continuously from early June until the first frosts,
and is, therefore, regarded by many seaside dwellers
as indispensable for their gardens. Undoubtedly,
through June, their more delicate beauty will be over-
powered by the gorgeous outbursts from the hybrid
perpetuals. Their bloom, nevertheless, is far more
continuous, and they are therefore valuable.

Tea-scented Roses

About the tea roses there is usually a refreshing,
delicate perfume, very distinct in character. Their
young shoots, besides, are colored with rich red, golden,
or brown, bringing them strongly into contrast with
the hybrid perpetuals, which have green wood. In
fact, the young leafage of this class of roses gives them
a warm, cheerful beauty even before their flowers
unfold. Their buds are invariably exquisite.

There is no doubt that they are lacking in the unvary-
ing hardiness of the hybrid perpetuals; still, they are
not too tender to be permanent in a seaside garden,
many of them being extremely vigorous. They require
to be grown in a well-sheltered place and to be covered
warmly over the winter. A simple way to preserve
them is, in the late autumn, to draw the soil up about
them to the height of about ten inches, thus forming
little mounds. The spaces about and around them,
and in fact the whole bed, should then be spread with
a heavy coating of litter. Although the upper, unpro-
tected parts of the plants may freeze down to the
top of the mounds, the lower wood is safely housed
and apt to come through the winter without damage.

[ 229 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

At many seaside homes, where the gardens are
well provided with wind-breaks, I have seen tea roses
of much hardiness and indescribable loveliness, bloom-
ing each month from June until November, casting
abroad their piquant sweet scent. They appeared to
like the moist closeness of the sea.

As soon as the red roses are settled in a garden,
it becomes less difficult to place those of pink, of
white, and of yellow; for red is invariably wayward
and cannot be treated with a lack of considera-
tion.

Freiherr von Marschall, while not a new rose,
has still few rivals in the red, tea-scented class. The
beauty of the flowers is abetted by the foliage, which
is tinged brightly with wine color, giving vivacity to
the whole bush.

Among the group of Maman Cochet roses there is
one of red which has the hardy characteristics of its
near relatives, and the ability to accommodate itself
to almost any soil and climate.

The Souvenir de J. B. Guillot produces roses of
nasturtium red, very bright and unusual. Francois
Dubreuil constantly sends out deep crimson flowers
and is notably hardy.

Pink roses of the tea-scented class are even more
numerous than those of red. Among them the brides-
maid is well known, not only, as some people imagine,
for the purpose of carrying at weddings, but also for
the garden. It is a sport from the much-beloved old
rose, Catherine Mermet, which should on no account
be omitted from the planting of the garden because

[ 230 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

its celebrated offspring has seen more of the world
and the limelight.

The pink Maman Cochet, like those closely allied
to it of red, white, or yellow, is a remarkably hardy
tea rose. Its flowers are very beautiful, and the bush
has the advantage of freedom from mildew and other
evils that sometimes torment ever-blooming roses of
less hardy natures.

Souvenir d’un ami has more than its share of spicy
tea scent, and its large, globular flowers of bright rose
are attractively tinted with carmine. It is particularly
well adapted to life in the open and grows vigorously.

The Duchesse de Brabant, while not so much seen
as many others of its class, is still charming to place
where blooms of bright rose pink are desired.

The old bon silene, with its roses of exquisite
form and delicate rose-pink color, is still popular in
modern gardens, although it is much less conspicuous
than in those of older fame, where the new and multi-
tudinous varieties of roses had not entered.

While red and pink roses are plentiful in the garden,
the white ones are in truth a necessity, since they keep
its members in harmony. White roses, with shadings
of yellow, pink, or buff, are particularly attractive
among the tea-scented class, which in a way seems
to desire to keep away from the more pronounced
colors of the hybrid perpetual and even the hybrid
teas.

The bride, which requires no description, so uni-
versally known has it become, often shows in the garden
a more decided shade of pink on its white petals than

[ 231 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

when it is grown under glass. It is, in fact, very suitable
for the garden, growing well and bearing its lovely
flowers profusely.

Princess Alice de Monaco is always a beautiful
rose, and distinctive because of the edging of blush
pink about its ivory-white petals. It blooms freely
and is one of the best of its class for cutting
purposes,

The white Maman Cochet is, like all its kin, a
very hardy rose, doing well with a minimum of care.

Maréchal Robert produces white flowers faintly
tinged with both pink and yellow. It bears them
constantly on long, stiff stems, a particular advantage
when they are to be used for bouquets.

Yellow roses are sufficiently numerous among the
tea-scented class to afford an ample choice to rose
growers. Even large beds of them are made in some
rosariums, where they hold their individuality as
strongly as those planted for effects of red or pink.

The yellow Maman Cochet, which in form and
bearing is the same as the white, the pink, and the red
varieties, exhibits a most intense shade of sulphur
yellow. It is very hardy and particularly well suited
to the open garden.

Etoile de Lyon produces a beautiful yellow rose,
as does also Madame Pierre Guillot, the latter showing
a delicate veining and border of pink. Marie van
Houtte bears roses of a paler yellow than that of the
already mentioned varieties. It passes, as the blooms
open fully, to cream white flushed with rose. The
plant is, besides, valuable for its sturdiness and great

[ 232 ]

PLATE LNIII MME. CAROLINE TESTOUT

GARDENS OF ROSES

freedom of bloom. Madame Hoste is also of strong
growth, generously producing its roses of canary
yellow, daintily edged with cream white.

The Safrano bears a rose of several shades of yellow,
tinted here and there with pink. It has stood the test
of years, having been the pride of many an old-time
garden. The bush seems to have the ability to keep
in good condition and to produce its flowers in a long
succession.

Souvenir de Pierre Notting has something the
same tones of apricot yellow as the safrona rose, and
its petals are tinged with deep pink. In form it is
very graceful, and the plant grows into a compact
little bush. It is one of the most noted and generally
pleasing of yellow roses.

In places where the Perle des jardins will thrive,
it holds no yellow rose its peer. But it is a lover of
much warmth, and should the garden be far northward
or greatly exposed to rough weather, it is futile to hope
to see it at the height of its beauty showing grace
in every outline. It is not a new rose, and has
perhaps more admirers than any other yellow rose
except the Maréchal Neil.

Sunrise, an offspring of the Perle des jardins,
resembles it in general outline and manner of growth
and is even a stronger plant, able to endure more
trying conditions of weather. In color the flowers
lean to the copper tints, with high lights of scarlet,
although their interiors are golden. They are truly
children of the sun and most beautiful.

The Sunset rose, a fit companion for the Sunrise,

[ 233 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

also shows the electrifying colors of gold and crimson.
It can be grown in the rose garden, although it is
doubtful whether it ever attains there the perfection
that marks it when living under glass. Nevertheless,
I have seen it doing fairly well in a rose bed not much
cultivated or particularly sheltered.

I remember one bed of yellow tea-scented roses
which was planted about the base of a sundial forming
the central point of a garden. Among them many
bulbs of yellow gladioli sent up their flowers, which
gave height to the bed and intensified its various tones
of the same color. The arrangement was very notice-
able and entirely practical, since the bulbs of the
gladioli are sufficiently small not to interfere with or
to drain the nourishment from the roses. Neither
do the rose bushes grow high enough to screen the air
and sunlight from the gladioli.

Tea-scented roses require considerable moisture
and to have the ground about them kept well enriched.
Soot, as a fertilizer, agrees with them admirably. It is
not customary to prune them so severely as the hybrid
perpetuals, unless they are weak in their growth.
Robust bushes need to be trimmed lightly.

Hybrid Tea Roses

It is undoubtedly among the hybrid teas that the
greater number of new roses are to be found to-day;
and it is also likely that for many years to come
improvements will continue to be achieved in this
class of dwarf roses. The hybrid teas, as is well known,
are crosses between the hardy, hybrid perpetuals and

[ 234 ]

GARDENS OF ROSES

the teas, and in various ways they combine the good
qualities of both of these great and distinguished
classes. They are more hardy and vigorous in growth
than the teas, characteristics inherited from the hybrid
perpetuals, while from the teas they have taken a
long flowering period and warm, rich tones of twig
and leaf. Their flowers are brilliant and clear in tone
and they have indeed a distinct and particular beauty.
Several rose lovers that I have known, who have
devoted their entire space to this class of roses, have
done so without regret.

Madame Jules Grolez, a comparatively new rose
of bright cherry red, resembles in form and general
uprightness the well-known Kaiserin Augusta Victoria.
It has proved notably hardy for a hybrid tea and most
generous with its bloom.

J. B. Clark, also a new rose, is really startling
when seen in all its possible perfection. The very fra-
grant flowers are unusually large, and their wonderful
dark crimson color is thought by many to surpass even
that of the Richmond and the Liberty, which never-
theless are both roses of notable brilliancy, although
they do not attain the remarkable size of the newer
variety.

Souvenir de Wootton is an old rose, yet still a
favorite, owing to its strong, free growth and the
abundance of its bloom, which is delightfully fragrant
and of a bright red that passes gradually to magenta
and violet crimson.

The Meteor roses are large and well formed in
both bud and flower. They are a rich crimson with

[ 235 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

velvet-like texture and most striking in effect. Like
the exquisite Liberty roses, they are much relied on
for the general planting of garden beds, although they
are also extensively grown in conservatories.

Griiss an Teplitz seems to combine many pleasing
and advantageous traits. It is nearly always in blos-
som and grows often four feet high, being remarkably
hardy. The color of the flowers is bright crimson,
spread with a sheen of darker tone. They have, more-
over, a fragrance rarely excelled even among the
varied forms of the queen of flowers.

With the planting of these few red hybrid teas,
their consideration should not cease, for there are
many others worthy of place and mention, were time
and space not things of cruel reality.

Belle Siebrecht is a hybrid tea of such rich and
brilliant pink and general beauty of bud and flower
that there are few roses capable of giving more pleasure.
It is not so generally planted as the La France, nor so
much beloved as the Killarney. Nevertheless, it is
worthy of both fame and love.

But among pink hybrid tea roses, the affection
turns unconsciously to the Killarney, the rose touched
with the wild, sweet charm of the romantic scene of
its birth. It grows in a winsome, upright way, the
young foliage gleaming with bronze and red. In the
bud the Killarney forecasts its wonderful charm, as it
is then long and pointed and of a vivifying sea-shell
pink. As it unfolds, its beauty increases, becoming
so persuasive as to make many believe it the rose of
the world.

[ 236 ]

PLATE LXIV FRAU KARL DRUSCHKI

GARDENS OF ROSES

My Maryland is one of the new hybrid tea roses
which has proved wholly successful both as an in-
habitant of the garden and for forcing during the
winter. Its flowers are not unusually large, but very
fragrant, and of a clear, fine pink, paling somewhat
toward their outer margins.

The La France, with its silvery pink recurved
petals, is likewise invariably greeted with admiration
by all. It blooms freely in the open garden. Although
it would seem that the pink La France should suffice
for the most exacting, it has been largely used to
produce other roses similar to it in general character-
istics, yet different in color. There is now in the group
a red, a white, and a yellow La France, and even one
that is distinctly striped. They are all hardy and
almost unexcelled for general planting.

Madame Abel Chatenay shows the same charming
tendency to recurve its petals as La France, and is,
indeed, as it unfolds, a study in color. From apricot
pink it passes swiftly to delicate shades of ivory rose.
When half blown it is more attractive in form than
when fully developed.

Nor should the rose garden be without Madame
Caroline Testout, a celebrated rose of highest stand-
ing. From the deeply toned center of its flowers,
the petals fade outward to rose color with satin sheen.
Lady Ashtown is regarded by many rosarians as an
improvement on Caroline Testout.

The Magnafrano roses are very double, deep rich
pink, and exquisitely fragrant. Usually several of
them can be picked from the bush.

[ 287 |

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Among white hybrid teas, the Kaiserin Augusta
Victoria is of exceptional merit. It is very beautiful,
long and full m outline, and deepening in color to lemon
yellow at the base of its petals. It has, moreover,
a sweet fragrance. Hundreds of people are familiar
with this rose in florists’ windows who yet are without
the knowledge that it will bloom freely in the open
garden from June until November.

Bessie Brown is a symmetrical rose, very deep and
full. Its petals are pure cream white, flushed here
and there with rose. The bush grows with remarkable
vigor, although it is not thought by many to bloom
with the freedom of various other hybrid teas. In
England it has been much used as a show variety.

Mildred Grant produces ivory-white flowers, tinted
delicately with pink. They are very large and upheld
by thick stems. Like Bessie Brown, however, the
variety is not particularly free with its blooms, and
has also been used more for exhibition purposes than
as a popular inhabitant of the garden.

Yellow roses hold always a charm of their own.
A garden could hardly be damaged by an abundance of
this color.

Of late the deep yellow rose, Franz Deegan, has
become a favorite. These flowers are not large, but
so intense in tone that they almost approach orange.
In fact, the type of this rose is very distinct.

Madame Pernet Ducher, the yellow La France,
is known by its medium-sized, canary-colored roses.
In the open garden it grows with much of the vigor
and grace associated with its parent.

[ 238 |

GARDENS OF ROSES

The Perle von Godenberg should also find favor
with lovers of yellow roses. It is very suggestive of
the beautiful Kaiserin Augusta Victoria, except in the
canary-like color of its petals.

Polyantha Roses

Frequently among the teas and hybrid tea roses
a bush that produces its flowers in clusters is used to
give variety to the planting and to show the queen of
flowers in many phases. For rose clusters make a
break in the uniformity of individual flowers, while
holding also their own attraction.

The polyanthas, which occur as compact little
bushes, are covered plenteously with clusters of dainty
flowers from the beginning of summer until the early
frosts. They are now considerably used for bedding
purposes.

Anny Muller is noted for its large trusses of bright
rose-pink flowers, while Katherine Zeimet bears white
flowers in equal profusion. These roses are known
respectively as the pink and the white baby ramblers,
and indeed they are very much like the well-known
crimson baby rambler, with the exception of the differ-
ence in the colors of their output. The crimson baby
rambler, although it seldom reaches two feet high, is
very decorative and most constant in its bloom through-
out the season. Baby Dorothy is also of the group,
producing innumerable flowers of clear pink.

These dainty plants do not ramble like the climb-
ing polyanthas. They are content in their useful
form of small upright bushes.

[ 239 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

The famous Clotilde Soupert is a tea polyantha
and a rose of great beauty and merit.

Climbing Polyanthas and Hardy Climbers

The climbing polyanthas, popularly known as
ramblers, have in a comparatively short time become
leading features in much garden work. They grow
with exceeding strength and place no limit on the
abundance of their bloom. They are well adapted
for forming pillars and for covering pergolas and arches,
often indicating the way to the garden.

Among these roses the crimson rambler, an intro-
duction from Japan, is the one of the masses, the rose
which adorns a wayside cottage with the same luxuriant
beauty that it gives to a secluded rosarium. The glory
of Long Island as seen from the railway during the
first week of July was the crimson rambler rose, occur-
ring in almost every dooryard along the way.

Of this famous rose there is now an offspring which
blossoms continuously, the so-called ever-blooming
crimson rambler. The joy it gives, therefore, may be
had until well into the autumn instead of passing
away with July.

The Keystone is also an ever-blooming climber that
has lately come into popular favor. The fragrance
of its blooms, as well as their deep shade of lemon
yellow, gives it a distinct and pleasing attraction. It
is reputed to be quite hardy.

Dorothy Perkins, an American hybrid of the
wichuraiana, is very lovely. Its flowers are a clear
soft pink, the petals being daintily crinkled. For a

[ 240 ]

PLATIC LAY STEPS LEADING FROM AN UPPER GARDEN

GARDENS OF ROSES

long time they hold their freshness, although the plant
belongs in no sense to the ever-blooming class.

Lady Gay also commands attention as a climbing
wichuraiana hybrid, since it is one of the most exquisite
that can grace a garden. Baltimore belle is another
beautiful hardy climber, its pale blush roses occurring
in clusters.

Perhaps the most remarkable of the climbing
roses are those among the teas and the hybrid teas.
In one garden last summer, I saw a climbing La France
and a companion vine called Mrs. Robert Perry.
The former appeared in every way like the La France
roses in the garden beds, except that it wound and
rewound itself about a pillar erected for its support.
Truly it was a lovely sight. No less fine was the Mrs.
Robert Perry, planted in an opposite, although identical
position. Its bloom was white, long, deep, and double,
and gave more the impression of a rose that had been
forced for winter bloom than merely of a climber
leaning toward the summer sunshine. Both of these
climbers are reputed to be strong and quick of growth.

A climbing ever-blooming Killarney is of recent
introduction and is identical with the parent variety
apart from its habit of climbing.

Of course, the climbing Clotilde Soupert is one of
the best ever-blooming rose vines to plant in places
where weather conditions are problematic. Besides
its ineffable charm, it is renownedly hardy. The
Empress of China, the so-called apple blossom rose,
on account of its color, will also flourish where many
other hardy climbers have failed utterly.

[241 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

As these pages go to print, the much-desired blue
rose has made its entrance into this country. It
approaches the realization of the rosarian’s dream,
marking the triumph of his skill.

The blue rose, Veilchenblau, presents itself as a
climber very much like the crimson rambler, only
its multiflora trusses swing to the breeze deep blue
flowers. At least, there are fortunate individuals
who regard these flowers as blue. The one example
of the new rose that I have seen impressed me as
showing deep crimson blooms heavily blotched with
bluish purple. It should, however, be found very use-
ful, since abundant deep blue bloom in a climber is
far from usual. The blue rose, moreover, is scheduled
as possessing great hardiness and as being able to
make a remarkable growth during one season. Its
foliage is neat and heavy.

Trailing Roses

The Japanese wichuraiana and its hybrid roses
may appropriately be cultivated about rose gardens
where there are banks to cover, rocky places to hide,
or wherever they can comport themselves with the
unfailing strength and assurance of a weed. As a
class they are recognized by their long trailing stems,
bearing dark green lustrous leaves.

Rosa wichurarana itself is particularly well known
and admired for its white wax-like single flowers, which
are delightfully scented. Its small, shining foliage makes
it also of immense decorative value. By a lake made
on a large estate, I have seen it covering the banks

[ 242 ]

x CLOTILDE SOUPERT

CLIMBING

PLATE LXNVI

GARDENS OF ROSES

about the entire circle. But there it allowed no other
plant to grow, twining itself about any intruder until
it had choked it to death. There are varieties that
have single, others semi-double, and still others that
have quite double flowers. The Jersey beauty is one
of the most attractive of the wichuraiana hybrids.

The majority of climbing and trailing roses once
well established remain permanently in a garden.
Neglect even will not discourage them. Often they
are wildly free with their bloom, truly charming inhab-
itants of the globe.

Standards naturally have a place within the gar-
den, forming a part of it, accentuating its paths and
points. For special reasons, however, they have been
treated in the chapter devoted to plants grown in this
way.

The roses desirable to form hedges and screens have
likewise been included in the chapter on Hedges.

Although the rose gardens that follow the coast
line of New England and of the middle coast states
can show much luxuriance and are strong examples of
artistic beauty, which will undoubtedly increase as the
years pass on, and although they are places where one
cares to linger, they can never, owing to climatic con-
ditions, equal the natural wonder of the southern rose
gardens.

Very early in the history of this country the south-
ern gardens, especially those of the rose, attained a
remarkable height of splendor. This was because their
owners had not only a love of flowers, but because
they kept in touch with and followed most extrava-

[ 243 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

gantly the highest English fashions in horticulture.
The fertility of their soil, and their many slaves, fore-
stalled in a measure their eminent success.

War and changed conditions have left a sad imprint
on many of these gardens; but the naturalness of their
beauty, the great luxuriance of their bloom, have not
been wiped away. Rose gardens suffocated in roses,
roses on walls, pillars, arches, and banks, — roses by
the thousands still form the wonder of many of the
southern gardens near the sea.

[ 244 J

CHAPTER XIX

GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS

T is true that there is generally felt in America
a love for lavish, exhilarant bloom in a garden,
unfolding at will, absolutely without restraint.
In no other country, perhaps, are flowers massed in the
same dense abundance that is here far from unusual,
nor do many other gardens show such numbers of
blooms of varied character. This is partly because
almost any new variety of plant that is well advertised
finds in this country a ready sale. It is introduced first
into the principal gardens and shortly afterward becomes
more or less general. Indeed, so great is the number of
new plants that have been given places in our gardens
during the last few years that very often they are re-
sponsible for a superabundant, almost confused effect.
A great deal has been said and written about the
massing of floral colors, and about color harmonies,
and undoubtedly our gardens have thereby been
much benefited. Still, a Japanese, regarding our luxuri-
ant planting grounds, looks upon the massing of their
colors as absolutely at the expense of the individuality
of the plant, wherein the beauty of both stem and
leaf is lost. These artistic people think, moreover,
that the gardens of this country display an excessive
and barbarous extreme of planting.
[245 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

But the other side of the picture shows that the
Japanese have reduced their gardens to a point where
the American finds them more unique than decorative.
They have touched the opposite extreme. Their gar-
dens are invariably those of few flowers, sometimes
of one flower. No garden there is so small — and it
may be made on ten square feet of ground, or confined
to a window box — that it has not its enduring point
of interest, meaning infinitely more to its maker than
any flower. This may be a tiny pond, a rustic bridge,
a stone lantern, a few pebbles, a summer house, and
always the little evergreen trees. Flowers may be
there or not, according to the circumstances. The
question which arises is never how many flowers can
be planted, but which ones are best suited to the
garden. The Japanese select with great care a very
limited number of plants for even the most extensive
gardens.

Last winter, at Christmas time, I stopped at a shop
in New York to buy a little arrangement of plants
that was in the window. A young Jap came forward
to attend to me.

“Very pretty garden,” he said; “the prettiest
garden of all.”

“Do you call it a garden?” I asked, from motives
of curiosity.

“A real garden,” he said. “‘See, a place to sit,
a place to walk and to think; sweet water, little tree —
a beautiful garden.”

I thought then of the impossibility of reproducing
an American garden in a little dish.

[ 246 ]

GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS

Many of the old-fashioned gardens of America
harbored few flowers in comparison with those of to-day;
and there came also a time when they went completely
out of bloom. This, however, was not through any
desire on the part of their owners. The illustration on
plate lxvii. is of an old garden noted along the Massa-
chusetts coast, and is one most charming. At the
time that the photograph was taken of this one section,
there was not a flower to be seen in it. The day had
passed when the peonies in the center of the circles
were gloriously crowned with blooms. Nothing had
been planted to take their places, and the garden had
simply become a spot where pleasure was gained
from the symmetry of the box edgings and the beauty
of other forms of greenness. Still, there was about
it the true garden feeling. It was a place of seclusion;
a place where one might care to linger.

Naturally, the abolition of flowers is not necessary
to a peaceful garden. This particular one had infinitely
more charm when the peonies upheld their bloom
than after it had perished. The peculiar beauty of
the period of repose into which it entered later points,
nevertheless, to the fact that the majority of gardens
in America, and often those near the sea, are sadly
overplanted.

I have walked through seaside gardens that were
so bewildering in their profusion of varied bloom that
I knew not which way to look. This was not because
they held too many plants, but because they held too
many different kinds which jarred with each other
in color and expression. In a garden of specialized

[ 247 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

flowers, such as the one of irises at East Hampton, this
sensation is not present. Although hundreds of irises
dwell therein, the reign of harmony is absolute. A rose
garden would be a sorry place if planted sparingly.

It is mostly in the gardens of hardy perennials that
one is led to wish that there were fewer kinds of flowers.

Still, the expert gardeners of this country have
the ability to vindicate all sorts of promiscuous planting.
It is natural that they should wish to experiment with
as many new forms of plants as possible, and merely
unfortunate that they are sometimes lacking in the
artistic feeling for color. Often one might believe
them blind as well as deaf to inharmonious colors.
Moreover, the desire now keenly felt not to allow a
garden ever to pass out of bloom urges them to
encourage a great variety of growth. It is mostly
when it becomes coarse, high strung, and clashing that
the practise seems lamentable.

One day, I asked a gardener why he had planted
petunias in a section of a garden not far from corn-
flowers.

“It ’ad been empty if I ’adn’t,”’ he answered with
proper spirit.

And much better it would have been empty than
filled with flowers shrieking in the flamboyant color
he was pleased to term “pink.”

Throughout this garden there was an abundance
of green. Various blooms occurred here and there;
it awaited the unfolding of the autumn flowers. All,
in fact, would have been well if the gardener had not
put in too many flowers.

[ 248 ]

GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS

One of the most pleasing hardy gardens that I
have seen was planned by a young girl on a bit of ground
twenty-five feet wide by forty feet long, and amusingly
termed a sample garden. In its center there was a
bed surrounded by a path of turf which in its turn was
bordered by four triangular beds, their hypothenuses
being shaped as segments of a circle. These beds
were also surrounded by narrow grass paths, while
the entire space was then outlined by a flower bed of
about three feet wide. The entrance to this garden
was through an arch covered with hardy rose climbers,
while several outstanding shrubs connected it with
the landscape. Tall perennials were used to fill the
outer, surrounding bed, while the triangular spaces
and the central bed were reserved for lower and some-
what choicer flowers.

But the charm of this garden rested not in its de-
sign, which nevertheless was simple and good, nor in its
suitability to its location. It was found in the fact
that too much had not been attempted, and that it
was undeniably a garden of few kinds of flowers.
Besides the bulbous plants, irises, columbines, daphnes,
perennial baby’s breath, alyssum saxatile, cornflowers,
phloxes, delphiniums, snapdragons, stocks, coreopsis,
perennial asters, and hardy chrysanthemums formed
its principal members. Asa whole, it gave a pleasure
similar to that of a well-arranged bouquet. It lent
beauty to the earth and supplied a wealth of flowers
for cutting.

None of its members, besides, were plants that
required particular petting or attention. Had pansies

[ 249 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

been entered, it would have been necessary to pick
them each day to encourage a continuance of their
bloom; dahlias and hollyhocks would have grown too
large for the spaces; salvia and red-hot poker plants
would have struck a note of color too high for the rest
of the garden.

In fact, it is often by the process of elimination that
the comparatively few desirable plants are chosen for
special uses.

Not every seaside place, unfortunately, affords
space for even a sample garden regularly made in a
somewhat formal design. To nearly each one, however,
there is a boundary line where at some point a hardy
border may be stretched. In regarding many such
lines of planting the question often arises: Are they
not overplanted?

At one place near Seabright, New Jersey, there is
a remarkably lovely hardy border extending over two
hundred and fifty feet. At its back it is planted boldly
with shrubs, unfolding their respective blossoms in
succession, and very gradually it is tapered down to
meet the grass with shrubs and plants of lower stature.
Here, there are so many plants that they are almost
uncountable, yet they represent comparatively few
varieties. Their colors, moreover, are so_ skilfully
employed that the border appears all yellow at one
time, principally pink at another, blue and white at
still another, and bright crimson at the high tide of
the phloxes.

If this border had been planted heterogeneously
instead of held closely to many eliminations, it would

[ 250 ]

PLATO LXVUOI A FORMAL GARDEN IN MAGNOLIA, M:

GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS

have lost greatly in individuality. As it stands, how-
ever, it pampers rather than offends the taste, and
denotes clearly that it has been controlled by one with
a knowledge of the nature and the colors of plants.

It is not a simple matter to plant a hardy border well
with few kinds of flowers. As a rule such plantings
are desired for color effect rather than for the outline
of the flowers, their expressions, or their perfumes.
Their color on the distant landscape alone holds the
eye and compels the admiration. It may, therefore,
be said to be a matter of personal taste whether the
individuality of the plant shall be sacrificed or not to
the startling effects produced by masses of color.

In the many beautiful formal gardens which are
now found dotted along our coasts, there is not the
danger of overplanting that so often breaks through
all barriers in the supposed-to-be-unpretentious garden,
and especially in hardy borders. This is, perhaps,
because the formal garden is recognized as a picture
built to abet the landscape, one wherein certain re-
strictions and limitations are imperative. I recall one
most stately garden at Bar Harbor which includes
few flowers. But one would not have their number
increased, since those that are there joyously thriving
are sufficient in themselves to bespeak the beauty of
the entire world of flowers.

Plate Ixviii. represents a formal garden in Magnolia,
Massachusetts, one that is well designed and planted
with few kinds of flowers. It strikes the high note of
cultivation of an estate which in other places portrays,
as seen in plate lxix., strong, naturalistic features.

[ 251 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

The Italian gardens, from which such American
ones as the above-mentioned example in Bar Harbor
have been copied, include very few flowers. They rely
for their beauty on their plan, their setting, and their
enduring points of interest. I have even searched
through Italian gardens in vain for flowers; yet
there are none that equal them in restfulness and
dignity. There is a poise and a balance to these
gardens that suggests infinite repose. They have
also vast endurance.

Italian gardens are not now uncommon in America
in places near the sea. A few can no longer be called
new, and are very beautiful. Some among the newer
ones that I have seen appear incomplete in design
and quite unsuited to their surroundings, and seem
to rely for beauty mostly upon the effulgent bloom
of many kinds of flowers, including tuberous rooted
begonias, geraniums, heliotrope, fuchsias, cannas, and
many other bedding plants. In such places one grate-
fully regards their multiplicity. It seems that nature
has privileged them to charm by their: colors, and to
pass over to oblivion the defects of their settings.

The greater number of our gardens near the sea are
distinctly American in type, one which is more like the
English gardens than those of any other country.
This is quite natural, since, when the early English
settlers began to beautify their grounds, they tried
to fulfil the horticultural ideals in their own minds,
which were those of home.

The Dutch settlers abetted the beauty of early
American gardens by the introduction of many bulbous

[ 252]

GARDENS OF FEW FLOWERS

plants; and a garden planted generously with bulbs
and showing a few delft or earthen pots for formal
effects was apt, as it also is to-day, to be called a
Dutch garden. Such sunken brick-walled gardens
as are seen in Holland, however, have never become
general in this country, although there are at various
places notably fine examples of this conception of a
garden plan. The sunken garden is, perhaps, the one
of all others that should be laid out under the super-
vision of a skilful landscape architect.

At present there is such an abundance of accessible
material, both native and foreign, that a prodigious
luxuriance is noticed in many of our gardens. Often
I have thought that, if they were more simply planted,
more influenced by suggestions from the Italian mode
of treatment, without at all being made direct copies
from the gardens under Italy’s blue sky, it would be
to their betterment.

Each year the power of the formal garden becomes
stronger in this country; being often preferred because
every inch of space in it can be used to advantage.
The naturalistic garden is also making its way rapidly,
and is now more frequently seen than ever before.

The formal garden gives opportunities to place
many bedding plants, palms, ornamental grasses, stand-
ards, and forms of growth that have for it a special
appropriateness. So also the naturalistic garden invites
beautiful flowers to make their home within its boun-
daries, and to live there as they do in the absolute
wild. For in such a garden, plant life would show
no deviation from the original types.

[ 253 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

These wild gardens can stand a much more abundant
planting than those that are purely formal. Nature,
when she strews the earth, is often very lavish. Wild
flowers, besides, are fleeting in temperament. They
are here to-day; to-morrow they are gone. But nature
arranges that one shall come in as another goes out.
No wild garden should be without the Black Cohosh
or snakeroot, Cimicifuga racemosa, which lifts its long
racemes of white flowers several feet high, waving like
spooks in the summer moonlight. It is as valuable
to the wild garden as auratum lilies are to one that
is formal.

It is never pleasing to see, as sometimes happens,
a naturalistic garden filled in with flowers denoting
hypercultivation; nor to see plants of immature per-
sonalities occupying a formal garden. No bloom is
invariably better than bloom out of place.

[254]

SSVIN SVTTONDVIN SOLRUSITVUOLYN ONY TIVINHOO TLO

AAT DNVIRY NY NUNT OLLW Td

CHAPTER XX

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT AND SENTIMENT

FTER many gardens have been considered,
and their inhabitants have been located and
scanned, it often seems that those in which

the individuality of the owners had run riot were the
ones to live longest in the memory. For the garden
is not only a place in which to make things grow and to
display the beautiful flowers of the earth, but a place
that should accord with the various moods of its ad-
mirers. It should be a place in which to hold light ban-
ter, a place in which to laugh, and, besides, should have
a hidden corner in which to weep. But above all, per-
haps, it should be a place of sweet scent and sentiment.

A garden without the fragrance of flowers would be
deprived of one of its true rights. Fortunately, those
near the sea are unusually redolent of sweet scent,
the soft moisture of the atmosphere that surrounds
them causing their fragrance to be more readily per-
ceived than if the atmosphere were harsh and dry.
It is still an open question to what extent the memory
and the imagination of people are stirred by scents
recurring at intervals through their existence. To
many the perfume of flowers has more meaning than
their outward beauty. In it they feel the spirit and
the eternity of the flowers.

[255 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

Undoubtedly, a particular fragrance will bring
back quickly to the mind, and with much vividness,
scenes and associations which have apparently been
forgotten and which might otherwise lie dormant
for a lifetime. The odors of many flowers are very
distinctive. The perfume of the strawberry shrub
is like none other; fraxinella, lavender, lilacs, and an
infinite number of flowers are as well known by their
fragrance as by their appearance. And although we
smell them a hundred times a season, under many and
dissimilar circumstances, there is perhaps only the
one association that they will definitely recall. It is
the one that has affected us deeply and moved our
sentiment.

The first strawberry shrub that I ever saw was
given to me when a small child by a red-cheeked boy
just as I went into church with my grandmother. I
slipped it into the palm of my hand under my glove,
and throughout the service I kept my nose closely to
the opening of the glove, smelling the flower. I was
reproved again and again, but I continually reverted
. to my new and exquisite diversion; for, in those days,
the time spent in church seemed lJonger than the rest
of the whole week. Even now, each spring, when the
first of these strange little flowers gives its scent to
the air, I am for an instant transplanted, as it were,
back to that stiff church pew, aching to be out in the
open, and smelling the strawberry shrub in my glove.

Old English herb gardens were regarded by many
as places of inherent sentiment, because, no doubt,
the strong pungent odors of their herbs were known

[ 256 ]

AN OLD GARDEN IN SALEM, MASS

PLATE LXX

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT

to possess a most subtle and potent influence. For
while the majority of people are susceptible to the
sweet odors of flowers, even those that are slight and
evasive, there are others who become almost as much
intoxicated with the aromatic fragrance of certain
stems and leaves as the cat does with a whiff of catnip.

Thyme, about which much has been said by both
ancient and modern writers, is reputed to have played
strange tricks with the fancy and the imagination.
I have even heard of its influence in the life of a man
of this generation. According to the story, this man
drove one day to the seat of a charitable brother-
hood in the vicinity of his country home to make his
annual gift. As no one was then in sight about the
monastery, he went on into the garden, one filled with
homely plants, mostly those of medicinal virtue and
pungent scent. Amid these peaceful surroundings
Brother Louie, a quaint figure in his brown habit,
tended the flowers, his eye lit with the fire of pious
enthusiasm.

The man of the world fulfilled his errand and was
about to leave the garden when Brother Louie put
into his hand a sprig of thyme, with its impressive,
never-to-be-forgotten scent. It was carried away: one
might have thought the incident closed. But the
thyme had its work to do. It perfumed the pocket
of the man who took it, and filled his mind with quiet,
beautiful thoughts of Brother Louie working among
the flowers, happier far than any king. At length its
mission was accomplished. The man longed sincerely
to wear the brown habit, and presented himself for

[ 257 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

admission to the brotherhood. It was a working order,
however, and whether he felt aggrieved on being allotted
the task of scrubbing the floors and assisting on a
Monday with the family wash, in lieu of attending
the garden with Brother Louie, is not known. When
curiosity concerning him had somewhat abated, and
when the populace had had its fill of peeping at him
through the monastery windows, a more picturesque
account of him was circulated. He was then described
as sitting at the organ in the twilight sounding the
call for vespers. There, at least, he may be left, a
supposed captive of thyme, for he has not returned to
his former life and his companions.

In spite of the increased formality of the majority
of gardens, and the hundreds that exist principally
for show, there are still found many that murmur
an underlying note of sentiment. It is not meant
that in them there bursts from the plants any unusual
show of feeling, but rather that the plan of such places
and their flowers are peculiarly destined to call forth
the imagination and the romantic sentiment dwelling
in those who tread their paths and sit under their
arches. Naturally, this more often occurs in old gar-
dens than in those that are new; for in the former the
growth is so well established and so assured as to
lack that element of uncertainty which is always a
detriment to peaceful sentiment.

The garden glimpse shown in plate Ixx. is one of
the oldest in Salem, where such places have long been
noted for their sweetness and their seclusion. This
particular garden was laid out in 1782 by an architect,

[ 258 ]

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT

then well known, who handled its sloping ground in a
skilful manner that has endured. The steps, bordered
with bloom, form a mark of individuality to which
the architectural feature of the simple arch gives dis-
tinction. Old chestnut trees and many fruit trees have
from the beginning found their home here.

Fruit trees, in fact, were conspicuous members
of most of the early gardens of America. Their
blossoms spread them with delicate beauty in the early
season, and later their fruits typified the fulfilment
of life and of their promises especially. No pleasanter
spot could be imagined in which to pluck and to eat
of the fruit of a tree than such an old garden.

In modern gardens fruit trees are seldom seen. It
would not now be regarded as scientific to allow plants
to approach them closely, since it is believed that the
roots of the trees absorb so much of the nourishment
of the soil that they would have, in such positions,
but a poor chance of satisfactory development. Still,
along the path represented by the photograph, it can
be seen that box, irises, and other plants snuggle up
very closely to the base of an old chestnut. And it
is not for a season only that they have thriven there.
They have done so for years, accommodating them-
selves to conditions. The inmates of this old garden
seem, indeed, to have been blessed with the spirit of
willing growth. Few bare spots are visible, and plants
unhealthy in appearance are not seen. Sentiment
lurks there; whether in its years, its arrangement, or
in its imbibed experiences, it would be difficult to
relate. The irises and the Madonna lilies bloom

[259 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

together, while the peonies in the bud await their
opportunity.

This terraced garden, while different in arrange-
ment, exhales somewhat the same gentle power as
the one shown in plate lxxi., also a garden of Salem,
one well planned and tended. It holds no rare or
unusual plants, but again are seen the fruit trees,
box edgings, vine-covered walls and arches, faithful
ferns, and garden plants.

Most of the old Salem gardens are well secluded
from the surrounding traffic of humanity. They
lie usually at the back of the houses, many of them
being terraced down to the edge of the water. Often
no hint of their existence is gained when the front door
of the home is entered. By means of large trees,
surrounding fences, and hedges, they are held as com-
pletely in privacy as if they were far away from build-
ings, street cars, and the varied activities of trade.
To the inhabitants of these homes the gardens have
been a great solace; the love of them is evident in the
tender care they receive, and in their owners’ loyalty
to their individualities. For as years come and go,
these gardens change slightly. The noises of steam
cars, factory bells, and the like cannot be excluded,
but they are rendered less poignant by the swish of
the wind in the trees, the hum of the bees about the
flowers, and the songs of the birds making nests.

Gardens of less regularity than many of those of
Salem can hardly be pictured. Flowers have simply
been planted where ground was owned and available.
Yet it is hardly in this occasional freedom from sym-

[ 260 ]

a10O SUVAL GAYGNAMW V UAAO NAGUVD V IXNN'T OLLW'Id

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT

metry of design that their plenteous sentiment is de-
tected. Perhaps it is in the knowledge that they have
weathered many things without themselves changing.
At least, one cannot walk through such places without
acknowledging that they exhale a calm and restful
influence.

Naturally, there are many flowers associated with
special sentiments; a vast number have figured in
folklore; there are plants of renownedly romantic
traditions. Still, even these mysterious plants cannot
alone make up a so-called garden of sentiment. On
the other hand, it seems as if incidents that have
happened in certain garden sections have left an imprint
that cannot be effaced.

A curious story is told in connection with an old
garden near Narragansett Pier. The garden is one from
which a stone might readily be thrown into the water.
There, long ago, a young girl was wooed by an ardent
lover, a son of the woman who built the garden. As
these two walked up and down its paths in the twilight,
they stopped sometimes to sit on a bench placed in
front of an old York and Lancaster rose—a rose of the
world, one with a vital spirit that has figured bril-
liantly in history and romance. The young girl leaned
toward the bush to pick one of its buds to place in
her lover’s buttonhole; again he plucked a rose to
fasten in her hair. The twilight deepened, and then,
as sometimes happens, there slipped in a misunder-
standing. Harsh words were spoken before the rose
bush, swayed violently back and forth by the wind.
In a burst of rage the young man fled from the girl,

[ 261 ]

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

and sprang lightly into a boat fastened at the side
of the water touching the garden. He put off, knowing
not where, and heedless of the rising gale; for in his
heart there raged a storm even fiercer—one which knew
no calm, since his boat was shortly swamped and he
perished without a look backward toward the garden.

The girl remained to weep; but when her tears were
dry she married a cousin of her former lover, and
together they went to live in a neighboring state.

Years afterward she returned, bringing with her
a son on the edge of manhood. She took him to walk
in the garden — the garden where she had wept. Now
it is related in all seriousness that as they drew near
the spot where the bench still stood before the York
and Lancaster rose, the boy was seized as with a frenzy.
He talked strangely, and at length ran in despair to
the nearby water and drowned himself.

The story is followed by the tradition that the
rose bush then withered and refused to blossom any
longer, and undoubtedly it should have done so if only
to make a fitting end for the melancholy occurrence.
But beside this account runs another put forth by a
purely realistic person, who insisted that the bush
not only bore better than ever before, but that he
gave away cuttings from it to many of his friends as
a very great curiosity. In truth, the power of associa-
tion in a garden is inexplicable and very strong.

There are innumerable tales about the phantom
spirits of those who have loved and tended certain
gardens, walking in them in the moonlight and stooping
to smell the flowers, whose perfume is greatly intensified,

[ 262 ]

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT

if not altogether reserved for this hour, when it is
sent forth as a call to their insect lovers. I feel it
unfortunate that I have never been able to see the
wraith of a garden, although in moonlit hours I have
scanned many a one very closely.

But apart from this regrettable withdrawing of
the ghost from my sight, I have entered gardens that
have at once impressed me as places of sentiment
and wondrously sweet scents; other gardens have
charmed me by their perfection, even though they
have evoked no especial feeling nor even fostered a
distinct remembrance of them. Why this difference,
I cannot tell. One thing, however, I know. A garden
of sentiment should never be exposed to the gaze of
the passer-by. And if its lines of planting are not at
some points especially high, fairly soaring skyward,
this impression of enclosed sentiment is lessened.
The garden must in places appear as if shut in from
the rest of the world, and from too much atmosphere,
as well as from people. A garden laid flatly out
under the burning sun gives a free escape to senti-
ment.

When I passed by the famous box of Sylvester
Manor at Shelter Island, box which has witnessed the
coming and the passing of ten generations, and which
has participated in the joys of each, since on wedding
ceremonials it is strewn, even to a recent day, with
golden oak leaves, and when I went on beyond the
Madonna lilies and entered the garden proper, I knew
that I had reached a place of preéminent sentiment.
It was a garden not seen at a glance, for I found later

[ 263

GARDENS NEAR THE SEA

that it included a lower garden, a terrace garden, and
a water garden. There was also a special place for
roses. But the dominant feature of the whole was
the box set in so rambling and mysterious a fashion
that, had not the present mistress of the garden walked
by my side to show the way, I should have been lost
in its mazelike intricacies.

The flower beds edged with box were laid out about
seventy-five years ago, but the incipiency of the garden
dates from 1652, at which time it is not unlikely that
the thoughts of its builder clung with intense affec-
tion to the home land across the sea; for it cannot be
overlooked that the garden must originally have been
much like an old English maze. In this garden George
Fox preached to the Indians.

To-day it rests calmly in its seclusion, happy with
fair blossoms. Here grow lavender and many fragrant
herbs; here tall lilies glisten in the midday sun, while
those floating in the water basin open wide their
petals. Here hundreds of perennials live their lives and
many annuals grow gayly.

In this garden there is no tense formality, no sense
of newness. It is, moreover, a garden of very distinct
personality.

The water-color sketch (plate Ixxii.) represents it
at twilight, the hour at which the pink night moth
seeks the primrose; the time when the whiteness of
the tall lilies becomes more subtly fair, when the
trickling water in the fountain is as the voice of
the garden, and when the thoughts of its visitors
are filled to overflowing.

[ 264 |

PLATE LXNNIL TWILIGHT

PUAL LoNNdit i

GARDENS OF SWEET SCENT

Such is the purpose of a garden near the sea —
to bespeak peace when the waves are high, and to
solace with its beauty and sweet sentiment the heart
of hurried humanity.

[ 265 ]

INDEX

Abies concolor, 41.

Abies pectinata pendula, 41.

Acer Japonicum aureum, 32.

Acer polymorphum atropurpureum, 32.

Acer polymorphum septemlobum, 32.

Achillea millefolium roseum, 176.

Achillea Ptarmica, 176.

Achillea tomentosa, 176.

Aconitum autumnale, 188.

Adam’s needle, 52.

Adonis, spring, 172.

Adonis vernalis, 172.

Ageratums, 3, 158.

Ailanthus glandulosa, 33.

Ailanthus, tree of Heaven, 33.

Akebia quinata, Japanese vine, 88.

Alder, 115.

Alyssum saxatile, 132, 162, 249.

Alyssum, sweet, 3, 130, 162.

Ampelopsis quinquefolia, 88, 95, 190.

Ampelopsis Veitchti, 89.

Andromedas floribunda, 49.

Andromedas Japonica, 49.

Anemone Japonica, 189; var. alba, 189;
rosea, 189.

Anemones, 135; Japanese, 189.

Annuals, 129-134; advantageous colors
of, 152-167; newly sown seeds, care
of, 130; sowing time, 129.

Anthemis tinctorta, 181.

Antirrhinums, 164.

Aphis, destruction of, 157, 214.

Aquilegia Californica, 174.

Aquilegia Canadensis, 174.

Aquilegia chrysantha, 174.

Aquilegia cerulea, 174.

Arabis alpina, 171.

Aralia spinosa, 68.

Arbor vite, Peabody’s golden, 41;
Thuja occidentalis, 41, 80.

Arbutus, trailing, success in transplant-
ing, 170.

Aristolochia Sipho, 90.

Armeria maritima, 172.

Asclepias tuberosa, 186.

Ash, green, 23.

Asphodels, 181,

Asphodelus lutius, 181.

Aster Nove-Anglie, 190.

Asters, annual planting of, 164-166;
perennial, 189; pests of, how to de-
stroy, 165; Stokesia cyanea, 185.

Astilbe Japonica, 177; Queen Alexandra,
177.

Auratum lilies, 146.

Azalea amena, 48, 63, 83.

Azalea Ghent, 62.

Azalea mollis, 62, 175, 227.

Azalea nudiflora, 63.

Azalea viscosa, 63.

Azaleas, 48, 61-63, 98, 128, 144.

Baby’s breath, as border edging, 162;
perennial, 162, 177, 249.

Bachelor’s buttons, 131, 158.

Baln, bee, or Oswego tea, 185.

Balsam, 164.

Barberry, 51, 72, 75.

Bedding plants, 14, 104, 253.

Bee balm, 185.

Beech, weeping, 25.

Beeches, 128, 144.

Begonias, 104, 112, 252.

Bellflower, 183.

Berberis aquifolium, 51.

Berberis Thunbergii, 72, 75.

Berberis vulgaris purpurea, 75.

Bignonia radicans, 90.

Bindweed, sea, 17.

Birches, 19, 129, 144.

Birch, weeping, 25.

Bittersweet, 93.

Blanket flowers, Gaillardias, 135, 175.

Bleeding heart, 172.

Bloodroot, 171.

Bluets, or Quaker ladies, 170.

Blue bonnets, 159.

Blue tops, 159.

[ 267 |

INDEX

Border, an effective, 122; at Seabright,
New Jersey, 250.

Bourgainvillia vine, 160.

Box associated with the Puritans, 82;
care of, 83; desirable for hedges, 82;
for edging formal gardens, 129; Syl-
vester Manor, Shelter Island, at, 263.

Bridal wreath, 64.

Buckthorn, 74.

Bulbs, autumn planting of, 145.

“Butter and eggs,” 117.

Butterfly weed, 186.

Buttonball, or plane tree, 22.

Burrus sempervirens. See Box.

Cabbage, skunk, 115.

Cactus, sea, 17.

Calabash, 86.

Caladium esculentum, 12.

Calendulas, 163.

Calliopsis, 163.

Calluna vulgaris, 51.

Calycanthus floridus, 69, 256.

Camomile, yellow, 181.

Campanula carpatica, 183.

Campanula grandiflora, 183.

Candytuft, 130; evergreen, 176; white,
162.

Cannas, 14; cultivation of, 136-138, 252.

Canterbury bells, 182.

Capaz plenus, 117.

Cardinal flower, 186.

Catalpa, 33, 101.

Catalpa Bunget, 33, 101.

Cat’s fancy, 173.

Cattails, 186.

Cedar, Japanese, 42; Mt. Atlas, 41;
red, 42. [See also Juniperus.]

Celastrus Scandeus, 93.

Centaurea cyanus, 131, 158.

Chelone glabra, 188.

Chelone Lyonii, 188.

Cherokee rose, 16.

Cherry, Japanese weeping, 30, 128.

Chinese Loofa, or sponge gourd, 86.

Chionanthus Virginicus, 67.

Chrysanthemums, 135; planting time,
191, 249.

Cimicifuga racemosa, 254.

Clematis, 91; Crispa, 92; Henryi, 92;
Jackmanii, 92; Lanuginosa, 92; Pani-
culata, 91, 154; Virginiana, 92, 94.

Cobea scandens, vine, 85, 93.

Cockspur thorn, 79.

Cohosh, Black, 254.

Colchicum autumnale, 125.

Colors, floral, massing of, 245.

Columbines, 174, 249.

Convallaria majalis, 203.

Coreopsis, 163.

Coreopsis, annual, 163, 249.

Coreopsis grandiflora, 188.

Cornflowers, 158, 248.

Cornus florida, 59.

Cosmos, 13, 154, 166.

Crategus coccinea, 80.

Crategus Crus-galli, 79.

Creeping Jenny, 177.

Cress, rock, 171.

Crocuses, 57, 114, 122, 145.

Cushion Pink, 175.

Cydonia Japonica, 58, 77; var. alba
simplez, 59.

Dahlias, 135, 250; Jules Crétien, 136.

Daisy, giant, 190.

Daisy, shasta, 185.

Daffodil, sea, 17.

Daffodils, 115-117; var. Barrit con-
spicuus; Capar Plenus; Emperor;
Empress; Glory of Leiden; Horsfieldzi;
Leedsti; Orange Phoenix; Von Sion.
[See also Narcissus incomparabilis.]

Daphne cneorum, 49, 249.

Delphinium. See Larkspur.

Delphinium Brunonianum, 180.

Delphinium elatum, 180.

Delphinium formosum, 180.

Deutzias, 128; Crenata, 61; Gracilis, 61,
78; Rosea, 61; Scabra candidissima,
61.

Dianthus barbatus, 175.

Dianthus plumarius, 175.

Dicentra eximia, 173.

Dicentra spectabilis, 172.

Dictamus frazinella, 141.

Digitalis, 182.

Dog hobble, 52.

Dogwood, 59.

Dusty millers, 104.

Dutchman’s pipe, 90.

“Eggs and bacon,” 117.
Elder, 69.

Elephant’s ears, 12.
Elm, American, 19.
Elm, camperdown, 30.
English primrose, 172.

[ 268 ]

INDEX

Eschscholtzias, 163.
Evergreens, coniferous, planting of, 141.

Ferns, transplanting of, 139.

Fescue, red or creeping, 8.

Feverfew, 190.

Fir, Colorado Silver, 41.

Fir, Nordmann’s, 41.

Fir, silver, 40.

Fire bush, 58, 77, 122.

Flower-de-luce. See Iris.

Forget-me-not, creeping, 171.

Forsythia fortunti, 58.

Forsythia suspensa, 57.

Forsythia viridissima, 57, 58.

Foxgloves, sowing and transplanting,
182.

Fraxinella, 256.

Frazinus lanceolata, 23.

Fringe tree, 67.

Fritilaria imperialis, 123.

Fritillaria meleagris, 123.

Fritillarias, in English gardens, 123.

Fuchsias, 252; as standards, 100.

Fujiyama mountain, Boston ivy dis-
covered on, 89.

Funkia Japonica, 209.

Funkia subcordata, 208.

Funkia undulata variegata, 209.

Funkias, 208.

Gaillardias, 135, 175.

Galanthus Elwesii, 112.

Galanthus Nivalis, 112.

Garden, arrangement of, 105; autumn
work in the, 143-151; Colonel
Young’s, at Atlantic City, 3; diffi-
culties in locating, 11-17; effects of
wind, sun, and salt spray, 11-13;
formal, 105; herb, old English, 256;
iris, 192-201; Italian, 252; Japanese,
246; naturalistic, 109; of few flowers,
245-254: old-fashioned, 105-107;
place of sentiment, 255; placing of,
102-110; rose, 210-244; small, return
to favor of, 104; starting of, 15.

Gas plant, 141.

Gentians, 188.

Geraniums, 14, 105, 252.

Ghosts, in gardens, 149, 262.

Gladioli, 111; corms, care of, 123; with
irises, 124; with roses, 124, 137, 234.

Gladitschia triancanthos, 22, 80.

Gold dust, 132, 162.

Golden bells, Forsythias, 57.

Golden feather, 190.

Golden glow, 188.

Golden-rod, 188, 190.

Gourds, 86.

Grape hyacinth, 120.

Grass seed, creeping fescue, 8; Ken-
tucky blue, 8; red top, 8.

Guinea-hen flower, 123.

Gum tree, sweet, 21, 128.

Gymnocladus dioica, 21.

Gypsophila paniculata and acutifolia,
162, 177.

Halesia tetraptera, 60.

Hawdods, 159.

Heather, Scotch, 51.

Hedges, 73-83; of Anthony Waterer,
77; of arbor vite, 80; of azalea
amena, 83; of barberry, 75; of box,
81; of buckthorn, 74; of California
privet, 74; of cockspur thorn, 79; of
crimson baby rambler, 79; of Deutzia
gracilis, 78; of hemlock spruce, 80;
of honey locust, 80; of hydrangeas and
snowballs, 78; of Japanese quince,
77; of Japanese rose, 79; of Norway
spruce, 80; of osage orange, 75; of
rose of Sharon, 76; of Spirea van
Houttei, 78.

Heleniums, 188.

Heliotrope, 14, 173; as standard, 100,
104.

Heliotrope, garden, 174.

Hepaticas, 5, 7, 116.

Hercules club, 68.

Hesperis matronalis, 173.

Hibiscus Moscheutos, 187.

Hibiscus Syriacus, 60, 128.

Holland, sunken gardens of, 253.

Holly, deciduous, 72; evergreen, Ameri-
can, 50; Japanese, 51.

Hollyhocks, 135, 183-185; sowing of,
138, 249.

Honeysuckle, Belgian, 88; bush, 61;
climbing, or trumpet, 10, 88; Jap-
anese, 87.

Hops, Japanese, desirable for vines, 85.

Houstonia cerulea, 170.

Hyacinth, grape, 120.

Hyacinths, 118-120, 145; var. Charles
Dickens, 118; L’innocence, 118; La
Peyrouse, 118; with tulips, 112.

Hyacinthus candicans, 119.

[ 269 ]

INDEX

Hyacinthus orientalis, 118.

Hydrangea, paniculata grandiflora, 70,
99; var. Hortensia otaksa, 71; radiata,
70.

Hydrangeas, desirable for shrubbery,
70, 78; planting time, 144; standard,
99.

Iberis sempervirens, 176.

Ilex crenata, 51.

Ilex opaca, 50.

Ilex verticillatus, 72.

Iris cristata, 196.

Iris levigata, 198.

Iris pumila, 196.

Iris Siberica, var. orientalis, 197.

Tris, flower-de-luce, 15, 144; a garden of,
192-201; English, 198; Florentine,
197; German, 122, 194; Japanese,
194, 198; oriental, 197; position of,
in seaside garden, 201; Spanish, 146,
195; var. Madame Chereau, 197;
Queen of May, 197.

Ivy, Boston, 89; Japanese, 89; poison, 94.

Jonquils, planting time of, 145; var.
Campernelle, 117; rugulosus, 117.

Juniperus communis aurea, 42.

Juniperus prostrata, 42.

Juniperus Sabina prostrata, 42.

Juniperus Virginiana, 42.

Juniperus Virginiana glauca, 42.

Kalmia angustifolia, 49.
Kalmia latifolia, 48.
Kentucky coffee tree, 21.
Kraunhia frutescens, 87.

Lambkill, 49, 256.

Larkspur, annual, 161; perennial (del-
phinium), autumn planting of, 144,
162, 179-181.

Lathyrus latifolius, 93, 158.

Laurel, lambkill, 49; native, 48.

Lavender, 135, 138.

Lawn, an ideal, 9; drainage, grading,
etc., 4, 6; effect of salt spray on, 2;
English country homes, of, 5; seaside
places, of, 1-10; seeding, 7; mowing,
8; watering, 8.

Leucojum estivum, 113.

Leucojum carpathicum, 113.

Leucojum vernum, 113.

Leucothoé Catesbet, 52.

Leucothoé racemosa, 52.

Ligustrum ibota, 74.

Ligustrum ovalifolium, 74, 107.

Lilacs, Persian and Chinese, 60, 122,
256; use of, in hedges, 80.

Lilies, 144; Bermuda, 204; Chinese,
206; day, 208; Japanese, 204-207;
Madonna, 203; meadow, 208; protec-
tion of bulbs, 202; tiger, 207; Turk’s
cap, 208; water, 199; wood, 208.

Lilium auratum, 204, 207. .

Lilium auratum rubrum, 205.

Lilium Batenannie, 205.

Lilium candidum, 203, 209.

Lilium canadense rubrum, 208.

Lilium elegans, 206.

Lilium Hansoni, 206.

Lilium Harrisi, 204.

Lilium Henryi, 206.

Lilium longiflorum, 206.

Lilium Philadelphicum, 208.

Lilium speciosum album, 206.

Lilium speciosum Henryi, 206.

Lilium speciosum rubrum, 206.

Lilium superbum, 208.

Lilium tigrinum splendens, 209.

Lily-of-the-valley, 13, 203.

Liquidambar styraciflua, 21, 128.

Lobelia cardinalis, 186.

Lobelia syphilitica, 187.

Locust, honey, 22, 80.

Lonicera Belgica, 88.

Lonicera fragrantissima, 61.

Lonicera Hallena, 87.

Lonicera phylomele, 61.

Lonicera sempervirens, 10, 88.

Lonicera tatarica, 61.

Loofa, Chinese, 86.

Loosestrife, 186.

Lotus, 200.

Lythrum Salicaria, 186.

Magnolia acuminata, 29.

Magnolia conspicua, 28.

Magnolia glauca, 29.

Magnolia macrophylla, 29.

Magnolia soulangeana, 29.

Magnolia stellata, 28.

Magnolia tripetala, 29.

Magnolia, Massachusetts, formal gar-
den at, 251.

Magnolias, Asiatic, 27, 29; native, 29.

Mahonia, or evergreen barberry, 51.

Mallow, rose, 187.

[270 ]

INDEX

Maple, Japanese, 31, 128; red, 57; silver,
31; swamp, 31; Weir's cut-leaved,
25

Marguerite, hardy, 181.

Marigolds, 163.

Marsh rosemary, 17.

May bells, 203.

Meadow rue, 176.

Meadow saffron, 125.

Mignonette, 130, 167.

Mock orange, 68.

Monarda didyma, 185.

Moneywort, 177.

Monk’s-hood 188; with Anemone Ja-
ponica, 189.

Monte Carlo, gardens of, 156.

Moonflowers, Japanese, desirable an-
nual vines, 85.

Morning glories, Japanese, desirable
annual vines, 85.

Moss pink, 172.

Mulberry, tea’s weeping, 30.

Muscari Botryoides, 120; var. alba, 120;
commutatum, 120.

Narcissi. See Daffodils.
Narcissus Horsfieldit, 117.
Narcissus incomparabilis, 117.
Narcissus maximus, 117.

Narcissus poeticus, 117.

Narcissus pocticus ornatus, 117.
Narcissus polyanthus, 116.
Nasturtiums, 153; climbing, 85, 91.
Nelumbian speciosum, 200.

New England, gardens of, 105.

Oak, chestnut, 24; pin, 25; red, 24;
scarlet 24; swamp white, 24; willow,
24.

Orange, mock, 68; osage, 75.

Oswego Tea, 185.

Peonia festiva maxima, 140. __

Peonia officinalis flora plena, 139.

Peonia solfatare, 140.

Peonia tenutfolia, 140.

Palms, 12, 253.

Pansies, 127, 155; for border edgings,
156, 249.

Papaver nudicaule, 134.

Pea, perennial, 93, 158.

Pea, sweet, cultivation of, 156-158;
var. Black Knight, 157; Blanche
Ferry, 157; Dorothy Eckford, 157;

navy blue, 157; Queen Victoria, 157;
White Spencer, 157.

Pearl, the, 176.

Peonies, as standards, 97; planting of,
139-141.

Perennials, 168-191; autumn planting
of, 144; raising in seed bed, 169.

Petunias, 14, 154; with heliotrope, 100,
154.

Pheasant’s-eye pink, 175.

Philadelphus aureus, 69.

Philadelphus coronarius, 68.

Phlox, perennial, 144, 178; color effects
of, 179; Drummondi, 159; General
Chanzy, 179.

Phlox subulata, 172.

Picea alba, 36.

Picea aurea, 37.

Picea Engelmanni, 38.

Picea excelsa, 36, 80.

Picea excelsa inverta, 37.

Picea orientalis, 37.

Picea pungens, 37.

Pine, Austrian, 39; Bhotans, 39;
Mugho, 40; Scotch, 40; white, 39.
Pink, moss, 172; pheasant’s-eye, 175;

sea, 172.

Pinus Austriaca, 39.

Pinus excelsa, 39.

Pinus mughus, 40.

Pinus Strobus, 39.

Pinus sylvestris, 40.

Pinxter flower, 63.

Plane tree, 22.

Planting, spring and summer, 127-142.

Plants, bulbous, 111-126.

Platanus orientalis, 22.

Platycodon grandiflorum, 183.

Poker plants, red-hot, 135, 188, 250.

Pond-lilies. See Water-lilies.

Poplar, Carolina, 23.

Poppies, annual, 131, 133; California,

163; Iceland, 134; Oriental, 134;
perennial, 134, 173; Shirley, 130,
162.

Populus deltoides, 23.

Portulacca, 130, 131, 132, 154.

Primrose, English, 172.

Primula vulgaris, 172.

Pruning of roses, 214.

Pruning of shrubs, 67.

Privet, California, 74, 107; Japanese,
74.

Pussy willow, 115.

[271]

INDEX

Pyrethrum parthenifolium aureum, 190.
Pyrethrum uliginosum, 190.

Quaker ladies. See Bluets.

Queen Alexandra, 177.

Quercus palustris, 25.

Quince, Japanese, 58, 77; for flowering
hedges, 59.

Ragged sailors, 159.

Red-hot poker plant, 135, 188, 250.

Retinospora obtusa, var. nana, 43.

Rhamnus cathartica, 74.

Rhododendron Catawbiense, 47.

Rhododendron maximum, 47.

Rhododendrons, 46, 113, 189; English
hybrid, 47.

Rhus glabra laciniata, 71.

Rhus radicans, 94.

Rhus typhina, 71.

Rock bells, 174.

Rock cress, 171.

Rocket, sweet, 173.

Rosa rugosa, 79, 211.

Rose bay, 47.

Rose, Cherokee, 16.

Rose, crimson baby rambler, 79.

Rose, crimson rambler, 79, 239.

Rose, Japanese, 79.

Rose mallow, 187.

Rose of Sharon, 60, 128; as standard,
98; for ornamental hedges, 76, 79.
Roses, culture of, 210-244; everbloom-
ing, 128, 228; formal designs of, 215;
hardy, protection of, 150; injurious
insects, 214; standard, list of, 97;
trailing, 242-244; Wichuraiana, 240,

242.

Roses, hybrid perpetual, 217-228;
var. Alfred Colomb, 225; American
beauty, 97, 218; Anna de Dies-
bach, 225; Baroness Rothschild, 220;
Baronne de Boustetten, 225; Boule
de Niege, 227; Clio, 220; Coquette
des Alps, 226; Coquette des blanches,
226; Countess of Rosebery, 221;
Frau Karl Druschki, 97, 217, 218,
226; General Jacqueminot, 97, 223;
Gloire Lyonnaise, 227; Liberty, 223,
235; Louis Van Houtte, 225; Ma-
dame Alfred Carriére, 227; Ma-
dame Charles Wood, 224; Madame
Gabrielle Luizet, 221; Margaret
Dickson, 97, 226; Mme. Plantier,

226; Magna Charta, 225; Mrs. John
Laing, 97, 218, 221; Mrs. R. G.
Sharman-Crawford, 221; Paul Ney-
ron, 97, 221; Perfection des Blanches,
226; Perle des Blanches, 226; Persian
yellow, 227; Prince Camille de Rohan,
224; Richmond, 223, 235; Soleil d’or,
227; Ulrich Brunner, 97, 224; Victor
Verdier, 225; York & Lancaster, 261.

Roses, moss, 228; var. Blanche Moreau,

Princess Adelaide, white.

Roses, Polyantha, bush and climbing,

239-242; var. Anny Muller, 239;
Baby Dorothy, 239; Baltimore belle,
241; Clotilde Soupert, 240, 241;
Dorothy Perkins, 240; Empress of
China, 241; Katherine Zeimet, 239;
Keystone (crimson rambler), 240;
climbing Killarney, 241; Lady Gay,
241; Mrs. Robert Perry, 241;
Veilchenblau, 242.

Roses, tea, 229-234; var. Bon silene,

231; the bride, 231; Bridesmaid, 230;
Catharine Mermet, 930; Duchesse
de Brabant, 231; Etoile de Lyon,
232; Francois Dubreuil, 230; Freiherr
von Marschall, 230; Madame Hoste,
233; Madame Pierre Guillot, 232;
Maman Cochet, 97, 230, 231, 232;
Maréchal Neil, 233; Maréchal Robert,
232; Marie van Houtte, 232; Perle des
Jardins, 233; Princess Alice de Mo-
naco, 232; Safrano, 233; Souvenir de
J. B. Guillot, 230; Souvenir de Pierre
Notting, Souvenir d’un ami, 231;
sunrise, 233; sunset, 233.

Roses, hybrid tea, 234-240; var. Belle

Siebrecht, 97, 236; Bessie Brown,
238; Caroline Testout, 97, 217, 237;
Franz Deegan, 238; Griiss an Tep-
litz, 236; J. B. Clark, 235; Kaiserin
Augusta Victoria, 238; Killarney,
236; Lady Ashtown, 237; La France
97, 236, 237; Madame Abel Chatenay,
237; Madame Jules Grolez, 235;
Madame Pernet Ducher, 238; Ma-
guafrano, 237; Merveille de Lyon,
217; meteor, 235; Mildred Grant,
238; My Maryland, 237; Perle
von Godenberg, 239; Souvenir de
Wootton, 235.

Rosa wichuraiana and hybrids, 242.
Rudbeckia lanceolata, 188.
Rue, meadow, 176.

[272]

INDEX

Saffron, meadow, 125.

Salem, gardens of, 107, 149, 258-260;
willows at, 20.

Saliz alba, 20.

Saliz aurea pendula, 21.

Saliz Babylonica, 20.

Salvia, 14, 154, 250.

Sambucus canadensis, 69.

Sanguinaria Canadensis, 171.

Scilla Stberica, 114.

Sea bindweed, 17.

Sea cactus, 17.

Sea daffodil, 17.

Sea health, 211.

Sea lavender, 24.

Sea pea, 17.

Sea pink, or thrift, 172.

Sea weeds, 17.

Seed bed, 169.

Seed, grass, Kentucky blue, 8; red or
creeping fescue, 8; redtop, 8.

Shirley poppies, 130, 162.

Shrubs, deciduous, 55-72; choosing of,
56; pruning of, 67; strawberry-
scented, 69, 256.

Shrubs, evergreen, broad-leaved, 46-54.

Silver bell tree, 60.

Snakeroot, or black cohosh, 254.

Snapdragons, 164, 249.

Sneezewort, 188.

Snowballs, 66, 78, 98, 128, 144.

Snowberry, 72.

Snowdrop tree, 60.

Snowdrops, bulbs should be planted in
autumn, 113, 145; effective in border,
122; lawn an appropriate place to
plant, 112; single and double, 112;
spring, or dwarf, 113.

Snowflake, spring or dwarf, 112.

Snowflake, summer, 113.

Soil, fertilization of, 1, 6; importance
of good, 2; of seaside places, 1-10;
sandy, favorable to garden builders,
3.

Solomon’s seal, 208.

Spirea Billardi, 64.

Spirea Bumalda, 64, 77.

Spirea Japonica, 177.

Spirea opulifolia aurea, 64.

Spirea prunifolia, 64.

Spirea Thunbergii, 64.

Spirea Van Houttet, 64, 78.

Spireas, 64, 78, 177.

Spruce, Colorado blue, 37; “Glory of

spruces,” 38; hemlock, 38; hemlock,
Sargent’s pendulous, 39; Norway,
36; Norway, golden, 37; Oriental, 37;
weeping, 37; white, native, 36.

Squills, or scillas, 57, 114, 122, 145.

Staff vine, 93.

Standards, a chat on, 96-101.

Stocks, ten-weeks, 160, 249.

Stokesia cyanea, 185.

Sumac, 71.

Sunflowers, 188.

Sweet alyssum, 130, 162.

Sweet peas, 129, 147, 156-158.

Sweet william, 144, 154, 161, 175.

Sycamore, 22.

Symphoricarpos racemosus, 72.

Syringa vulgaris, 60.

Tamarix, 63, 99.

Tamariz galica, 63.

Taxus baccata, 43.

Taxus baccata aurea, 44.
Tecoma radicans, vine, 90.
Ten-week stocks, 160, 249.
Thalictrum dioicum, 176.
Thorn, American white, 80.
Thorn, cockspur, 79.
Thrift. See Sea pink.
Thuja occidentalis, 41, 80.
Thyme, 257.

Thyone briarcus, 17.
Tigridias, 124.

Torylon pomiferum, 75.
Trailing arbutus, 170.
Traveler’s joy, 190.

Trees, deciduous, 18-34; evergreen,
35-45; fruit, 259. [See also names
of trees.]

Tritoma express, 189.

Tritoma uvaria grandiflora, 189.

Tritomas, 188.

Tsuga Canadensis, 38.

Tsuga Sieboldi, 39.

Tulips, 120-122, 145; var. Cottage, 121;
Darwin, 121; Duc van Thol, 121;
Dutch 121; Gesneriana, 121; Parrot,
121.

Tulip tree, 31.

Turtle head, 188.

Valerian officinalis, 173.

Verbenas, 104.

Viburnum dentatum, 67.

Viburnum opulus, var. sterile, 66.

[273]

INDEX

Viburnum plicatum, 66.

Viburnum tomentosum, 67.

Vines, annual planting of, 85; beauty
of, 84; care of, in autumn, 146; indis-
pensable to home grounds, 94.

Virginia creeper, 88, 95, 190.

Waterer, Anthony, 64, 77.
Water-lilies, cultivation of, 199.
Weigelia candida, 66.

Weigelia Eva Rathke, 66.
Weigelia rosea, 65.

Weigelias, 65, 128.

Willow, weeping, 20; white, 20.

Windflower, Japanese, 189.

Wistaria, vine, 86; Chinese white, 87;
Kraunhia frutescens, 87.

Woodbine, 88.

Yew, English, 43.

Yucca filamentosa, 53.
Yucca floriosa recurva, 53.
Yucca pendulifolia, 53.
Yuccas, 52-54.

Zinnias, 163.

[ 274 ]