_Annuals_
A well-ordered garden is, in a measure, dependent upon the annuals,
coming in bloom (as they do) after most of the perennials have had their
short summer hour.
As February days lengthen the seedsman's catalogues come pouring in.
Turning a resolute back on the allurements and temptations of "Prize
Collections" I find it safer to pin my hopes to some well-tried
seedsman, and selecting in accordance with experience and the length of
my purse, send in an early order. Time was when I anticipated the season
by starting, in early March, window boxes of asters, petunias, cosmos,
and nasturtiums; experience has since taught me to await the slower seed
time appointed for me by wise Mother Nature and sow in the open about
the first week in May. The nasturtiums and sweet peas may be soaked over
night and put in earlier, the _latter_ the moment frost is out of the
ground, the _former_ about mid-April.
If one can command a cold frame still earlier sowing of transplantable
annuals is desirable. Seedlings thus raised are hardier than window
growths and may be set in the open bed before May is over; with the
house-sown annual one loses more of vigor than is gained by
"forehandedness."
Most annuals may be sown in the seed bed, which is the necessary
appendage to the show beds--indeed, all excepting the cosmos and poppy,
which cannot well bear removal. The transplanting may be done late in
June, and, indeed, if a cloudy day be chosen for the work, on any
afternoon throughout the summer. I have found that not only annuals but
herbaceous plants, vines, and even shrubs may be moved at one's
convenience without regard to the popular idea which restricts one to
spring and fall transplanting. My own method is--first, have a coolish
cloudy day, then dig holes and put oceans of water in them. Having made
the soil of the seedling quite wet one may keep a little ball of it
about the plant. Cover quickly with moist loam, then screen from sun
with newspaper, a big basket, or a box in which airholes have been made,
and keep well-watered until apparently rooted. A few high-growing
annuals, as marigolds, coxcombs, zinnias, and four-o'clocks, may be used
with effect in the empty spaces in perennial beds, where Oriental
poppies and candidums have died down and have had their stalks cut. For
this purpose let not the stiff-necked zinnia be despised. Easy of
culture, ready to move at any date, and without a moment's notice and
(if one save seed) in such cheap abundance that the undesirable colors
and shades may be pulled up as soon as the blossom shows its face and
cast aside with the weeds. The dreadful magentas are never once
permitted a foothold in my garden; the whites, yellows, true pinks,
salmon-pinks, and bright scarlets are all effective.
That out-of-date annual, dear to our grandmothers, the Four-O'Clock
should find a place in the perennial border. As will be inferred from
its name, it is an afternoon bloomer. "Motley is its wear," and its
color surprises more than repays one for the pains of raising. It has a
faint delicate odor all its own, recalling the enchanted gardens of
one's childhood, and that time of day when "school was out," and one
went skipping home to pull nosegays. I lack space to give here the long
list of desirable annuals.
Most of these are low-growing and look best in their own beds, as
Mignonette, Lady Slipper, Escholzia, Poppies, and so on. Centaurea
(Bachelor's Button) should especially have an entire bed to itself.
Mrs. Pratt tells us that in Germany it has been brought from the field
to the garden bed, and by the gardener's skill has increased the number
of its flowerets, and sometimes varied their hue.
"It is the pet of the German ladies, who have given it the pretty name
of _Bluet_. With us it is sometimes known as the 'Corn Flower.'"
The Centaurea, according to Pliny, "is that famous hearbe wherewith
Charon, the Centaure, as the report goeth, was cured; at what time
having entertained Hercules in his cabin he would needs be handling and
tampering with the weapons of his said guest so long, untille one of the
arrows light upon his foote and wounded him dangerously."
To this legend the plant may probably refer its name.
[Illustration: Winter Corner at The Lilacs]
Some of the low-growing annuals may effectively border the show beds
where late in May the geraniums are set on the removal of spring bulbs,
which I find it best to lift and dry off for fall planting.
Clumps of Narcissi and Daffodils may remain permanently in the borders
to make their summer growth, and the half-grown bulbs may be put in beds
made in some out-of-the-way place for their especial propagation.
In central positions on the lawn build raised circles for show bulbs;
border with stone. Avoid turf borders, which imply a continual fight
with tough grass roots.
Have good loam, sifted fine, and well enriched with old cow manure. Make
holes four inches deep, and put in each a sprinkling of fine sand to
prevent the bulb coming in direct contact with manure in the soil. Plant
bulbs in October, but do not cover with the final dry leaves and pine
boughs until the very last of November, and be sure to uncover in spring
as soon as the young sprouts push up for the sun.
In summer, with two or three choice cannas in the center, some bright
geraniums, and coleuses next, and a filling out of asters, petunias, and
low Drummond Phlox from the seed bed, the circles will make a lovely
show of color up to the very last day of summer and all through the
month of September, and, on their groundwork of green lawn, be indeed
fair to see. In back places of the garden sow seed for flower-cutting;
among the best of these is the "White Branching Aster," the single
Dahlia, and (if one can bring enough of these beauties into bloom) the
white Cosmos.
The yellow Daffodil, although in our climate it does not, as in
Shakespeare's England,
"Come before the swallow dares
And take the winds of March with beauty,"
is among the earliest of our spring flowers and laughs our raw east
winds to scorn.
"Yellow," says Mrs. Jameson, "symbolizes the goodness of God." We cannot
be better reminded of this divine attribute than by the Daffodil's
smiling face looking up to us from the edge of perennial beds. The
single white variety of Narcissi, known as Poet's Narcissus, must, I
think, be the identical flower into which the vain beautiful youth of
mythological notoriety (enamored of his own image reflected in a
fountain) was changed. The gods did well by him. To this day it makes
our May-time sweet, and as a cut flower it is perfection itself. Later,
as the plants die down, one can remove its dead tops and sow Shirley
Poppies above the bulbs, while they increase beneath and get ready for
the next "spring opening."
The Asphodel of the Greek poets, by some declared to be the Day Lily, is
by others supposed to be the _Narcissus Poeticus_.
The Tulip, as a bulb, is historically famous. It was brought to Europe
from Persia in 1559 and was cultivated at Constantinople. From this city
it found its way over Europe under the name of the Turkish Tulip.
About a century after its first introduction it became, as we know, the
object of commercial speculation. It is said that enormous prices were
paid for a single bulb, and that as much as $3,000 was offered and
refused in one instance. Speculators were even more excited and reckless
than the growers, and many of the Dutch florists were ruined by their
ventures.
This mania happily wore itself out and the industry finally assumed a
healthy tone. At the present time, according to the statement of Mr. C.
L. Allen, to whom I am indebted for the above facts, more than seven
hundred acres of Dutch soil are devoted to Tulip culture.
Tulips have been grown from the seed by the millions. The named
varieties are so great that it would be impossible to enumerate. One
dealer alone boasts of more than eighteen hundred varieties.
The seed bed's important part it is to furnish fresh plants to take the
place of such perennials and biennials as are winter-killed or have
outlived their flowering time.
It should have light rich soil and, if possible, should have half the
day in shade.