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HANDBOOKS OF PRACTICAL GARDENING--XIX
EDITED BY HARRY ROBERTS
THE BOOK OF TOWN AND WINDOW
GARDENING
[Illustration: A WINDOW BOX IN JUNE]
THE BOOK OF
TOWN & WINDOW
GARDENING
BY
MRS F. A. BARDSWELL
JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD
LONDON AND NEW YORK. MCMIII
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
TOWN-GARDENING
PAGE
London in summer-time--Bought flowers _versus_ growing
plants--Plants that do well in towns--Gardens of the
suburbs--Some of their joys 1
CHAPTER II
THE EARLY WINDOW-BOX
Spring gardening in the window-box--Bulbs: gold, white,
and blue--Moss carpets, dainty beds--Flowers that grow
well together--Some combinations--Encouragements 8
CHAPTER III
“THE SEASON” WINDOW-BOX
Not to start summer flowers too soon--Not to buy plants
that have been forced--Not to be like everybody else--_Asparagus
Sprengeri_--A kitchen window-box--Herbs--The
watched pot--Prize window-boxes at Exeter--The
nursery window-box--Seed Song 14
CHAPTER IV
BALCONY-GARDENING
Pot-plants--Climbers--Tubs--London in June--The pleasant
balcony--Practical hints 20
CHAPTER V
ROOF AND BACK-YARD GARDENS IN THE CITY
St Andrew’s Rectory garden, Doctor’s Commons--“Struggles
in Smoke”--Roof-jungle at the Home for Working Boys,
at Bishopsgate Street, E.C.--Amateur gardening among
the slates and chimney-pots--City gardens--Tempting
the sea-gull, land-bird, and butterfly 26
CHAPTER VI
PLANTS FOR THE CITY POOR
Window-box Society, St. Cuthbert’s Lodge, Millwall--Mr.
Cadbury and his operatives--Town board schools--Gardening
at Crook’s Place Board School, Norwich--Country
board schools in England and in Germany--Helping the
poor--Miss Jekyll and the factory lad 31
CHAPTER VII
THE BEGINNER
Choosing the window-box--Making it--Placing it--Filling
it--The hanging basket--Cleansing--Watering--The
Fern window-box--Virginia Stock 36
CHAPTER VIII
FOLIAGE PLANTS FOR TOWNS
The window-box and the man in the street--The advantages
and merits of the foliage-plants--Which to order 44
CHAPTER IX
FOG, FLOWERS, AND FOLIAGE
Air--Fog--What urban fog is made of--Darkness--Poison--An
analysis from Kew--Can we counteract effects of fog?--Mr.
Toope at Stepney--Fog-filters--What plants suffer
least?--Professor Oliver’s report on ferns in fogs--Bulbous
plants--Precautions--Coal-smoke Abatement Society--Resolutions 48
CHAPTER X
THE LADY DECORATOR AND THE FLOWER-GIRL
Arranging flowers--Balls, dinner-parties, weddings--Fashions
in flowers--Dyed flowers--Flowers as symbols--Primrose
Day--Floral trophies--The early and mid-Victorian
bouquet--Street-selling flower-girls--Buttonhole-making--A
skeleton parasol in France 55
CHAPTER XI
THE SMALL SUBURBAN GARDEN
A good word for it--The motor-car--Corner houses--Making
the most of a small garden--Turf--Trees--Back and
front gardens--Individuality--Good taste 62
CHAPTER XII
“NEXT DOOR”--A PARENTHETICAL CHAPTER
Garden etiquette in Suburbia--Codes and
customs--Barriers--Brides--Music--Children--Bonfires--The
family wash 71
CHAPTER XIII
GRASS, GROUND, OR GRAVEL
The new suburban garden--The restful garden--_Country Life_
on English and Continental suburban gardens--The lawn
and flower-beds--Grass walks 75
CHAPTER XIV
FERNS AND WILD FLOWERS
The hardy fernery--How we made our own--Wild flowers for
the fernery--The fernery all the year round--Amusing
May--The Pale Osmunda--The neglected fernery of
London and the suburbs--Roadside Ferns and hedge-haunters 80
CHAPTER XV
CREEPERS AND CLIMBERS
The Vine and Fig-tree--_Ampelopsis Veitchii_--Trellis-work--Wire
netting--Supports--Roses, Jasmine and Magnolia--The
Passion-flower--Hops and Honeysuckle--Morning
Glories--“Ivy Lane” 88
CHAPTER XVI
EASY ROCK AND WALL GARDENING
How to get “rock” and place it--Alpine and English rock-plants--Mr.
Barr’s nursery ground--Encrusted Saxifrages--The
double wall--Thrift, Wallflower, and Red Valerian--One
pleasing Thought 95
INDEX 103
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A WINDOW-BOX IN JUNE _Frontispiece_
_Photo by Mrs. Bardswell_
TO FACE PAGE
DOUBLE AND SINGLE PYRETHRUMS 2
_By courtesy of Messrs. Barr_
MICHAELMAS DAISIES 6
_By courtesy of Messrs. Barr_
OVERLOOKING THE TOWN 16
_Photo by T. W. Scott_
A HANGING BASKET 20
_Photo by Mrs. Bardswell_
A BOAT-SHELTER WITH CERASTIUM ON ROOF 26
_Photo by D. T. Fish_
AN EAST-END ROOF GARDEN 28
A ROOF GARDEN 30
_Photo by D. T. Fish_
POOR MAN’S WINDOW-BOX AT MILLWALL 32
_By courtesy of Mrs. Richard Frere_
POOR MAN’S HOUSE-FRONT, WITH INSIDE PARLOUR GROUP, AT MILLWALL 34
_By courtesy of Mrs. Richard Frere_
SPRING IN THE CROOK’S PLACE BOARD SCHOOL GARDEN, NORWICH 36
_By courtesy of Mr. Edward Peake_
PANSY BED IN CROOK’S PLACE BOARD SCHOOL GARDEN, NORWICH 38
_By courtesy of Mr. Edward Peake_
PART OF ROCK-GARDEN, CROOK’S PLACE BOARD SCHOOL, NORWICH 42
_By courtesy of Mr. Edward Peake_
A WATER GARDEN 50
_By courtesy of Messrs. Barr_
LILIES IN LORD ILCHESTER’S JAPANESE GARDEN, AT HOLLAND HOUSE,
KENSINGTON 54
_By courtesy of “Country Life”_
BULRUSHES AND BOG BEANS IN SMALL TANK IN GARDEN 58
_Photo by T. W. Scott_
IN A SMALL SUBURBAN GARDEN 62
_Photo by John Scott_
LATE SUMMER 68
_Photo by T. W. Scott_
EARLY AUTUMN 74
_Photo by T. W. Scott_
A TOWN FERNERY 80
_Photo by Mrs. Bardswell_
THE OSMUNDA IN MAY 84
_Photo by Mrs. Bardswell_
VIRGINIAN CREEPER OVER PORCH 88
_Photo by Mrs. Bardswell_
A ROCKERY 96
_Photo by John Scott_
A ROCKERY IN EARLY SUMMER 100
_Photo by John Scott_
_Acknowledgment is due to the Editors of “The Garden,” “The
Lady,” and the “Pall Mall Gazette” for their courtesy in permitting
the reproduction in this book of certain chapters which appeared as
articles in their respective journals._
CHAPTER I
TOWN-GARDENING
“I’ll take the showers as they fall,
I will not vex my bosom;
Enough if at the end of all
A little garden blossom.”
Courage is wanted to write a book about Town-gardening. Is there such
a thing? Some would say “No; cats, fogs, and smuts forbid.” Yet how
inseparable from London is the thought of flowers! Can we picture
the West End on a summer’s day without them? The dust-laid, freshly
sprinkled squares and streets, where behind half-drawn blinds there
is the fragrance of many blossoms; the bright harness of horses
jangling as they champ the bit, a knot of flowers at every bridle;
flower-sellers with baskets at all convenient corners, and along the
roadway carts of Palms and growing plants bending and waving in the
wind; every man one meets has got his button-hole, and every maiden
wears her posy; even the butcher-boy holds a bud between his thumb and
finger, twirling it and smelling at it as he goes.
The love of flowers and an almost passionate delight in cultivating
them has ever been a feature of English life, and of late years the
old taste has been renewed and strengthened: no mere whim of fashion’s
fancy is it, but the outcome of a nation’s feeling, deep and true;
and what the English people love and long for, that they will have,
despite all difficulties. Thus it comes about that London’s heart is
gay with flowers. They strew our parks and open spaces, they fill the
cheerful window-box and seed-sown area, and make the cold grey balcony
to blossom as the rose; even where London’s traffic roars the loudest,
one lights upon the pathetic back-yard garden, hemmed in by church and
factory walls, the high-hung garden of the roof and parapet, the little
beau-pot of the window-sill, the poetic window-plant, that shares its
owner’s only living-room,--everywhere flowers, flowers, for rich and
poor, especially for the rich.
“There’s never a delicate nursling of the year,
But our huge London hails it, and delights
To wear it on her heart or at her ear,
Her days to colour and make sweet her nights.”
Buying flowers is easy enough, it is the growing of them in big towns
that is so difficult; but the struggle is not a hopeless one, there is
much that may encourage. When we hear of what others have done, still
more, when we have seen their successes for ourselves, despair gives
way to animation and activity.
No one will deny for a moment that there is more real joy to be felt
over one plant that we have grown for ourselves than over ninety and
nine bought ones; and this is not only because attending to its needs
has made us love the flower as we love children and other pets and dear
dependents--there is another reason. In shop-flowers the method of
growth (one of a plant’s greatest beauties) is a charm left out. Sweet
Peas, for instance; we buy them squeezed up in tight bunches, all pink
ones massed together, or all white or purple. Where is the grace of the
clinging tendril, the tender poising of the dainty blooms?
[Illustration: DOUBLE AND SINGLE PYRETHRUMS]
I have seen these beauties where Sweet Peas were blowing and growing
in the depths of a London area along with white Pinks, Candy-tuft, and
the gold-flowered Canary Creeper, but never have I beheld them in
the shop: bunches of Cornflowers and even Roses, will be laid against
a trail of Smilax, or something else that does not belong to either
of them, such as the ever-present “French Fern” or New Zealand grass.
Flower-artists of Japan, who willingly spend hours in coaxing each
separate twig and flower to show its natural grace and habit, would
not much care to arrange the cut flowers we buy in towns, that have
been divorced completely from the stems and branches where they grow;
and to say this is not to grumble at the florists, who cannot do
impossibilities, but to accentuate the fact that cut flowers cannot
take the place of growing ones.
Happily for the town gardener, many plants and flowers do well among
the chimney-pots. Annuals less so than some, perhaps, but many of
these flower satisfactorily if thinly sowed. Nasturtiums, Virginia
Stock, Coreopsis, Marigold, Scabious, Sunflower, Lupin, Love-in-a-mist,
Candy-tuft and Larkspur never fail us, nor Sweet Pea, if we can keep
the sparrows from eating the seeds. Some town-folk tell me they think
Carnations really like smoke, so well they thrive in it. Pyrethrums,
both single and double, are among our best town flowers, and will grow
almost anywhere and in any ordinary garden soil. The one drawback to
their well-being is slugs, who find the young growths too enticing;
but we can circumvent this enemy if in autumn we sprinkle ashes, soot,
or lime around the crowns. In London it is never difficult to get
soot, though, oddly enough, every chimney-sweeper considers _our_ own
home-made soot _his_ perquisite, and makes _us_ pay for it. The really
best way to get rid of slugs is to catch them in orange-peel traps,
made of empty half-oranges, under which they crawl, and can then be
killed. Sliced potatoe is another good bait, or beet-root. The drawback
of using traps is the danger of attracting the enemy. On the other
hand, ashes, soot, and lime are unsightly, and may spoil our plants
if allowed to touch them. A pail of salt and water we find the least
unpleasing medium when culprits must be executed.
In a town garden where there is room for them, no plants do better than
the Star-worts or Michaelmas Daisies. They are so easy of cultivation
and so comforting late in the season, when the “bedders” of every
public and private garden have succumbed to cold and wet. Later there
are Chrysanthemums.
Lilies and all bulbous plants show unexpected hardiness. Our parks both
east and west familiarize us with Snowdrop, Crocus, Jonquil, Narcissus,
and Daffodil; and to see how happy Valley-lilies can make themselves
within earshot of the bustling Strand, we need only turn our footsteps
towards the dim green gardens of the Temple, where banks and parterres
of them unfold their verdant cloaks beneath every April sky. Farther
west, if eyes could pierce the trees and shrubs that guard the gardens
of the King and Queen at Buckingham Palace, or those round Marlborough
House, they would see Lilacs, Laburnums, Pinks, and Roses; and from
the knife-board of a Bayswater omnibus, if our field of vision were
a little broader, we should catch glimpses of Lord Ilchester’s fair
gardens about Holland House, where languorous Lilies of Japan luxuriate
in all their native splendour, and much of their native wildness; and
this but a stone’s throw from the Great Western Railway Station and the
World’s Fair of William Whiteley.
Among the gardens of the suburbs most of our town difficulties
disappear; the many nursery, and market, and Rose, and Rock, and
Daffodil gardens that flourish in London’s outskirts abundantly prove
this. Once away from fog and smoke, there are few limitations except
those that come of want of space; but land is dear, and there is little
ground to spare, except for public and general gardens, where again
individual joys are lost.
The suburban garden, in spite of all the hard things that have been
said of it, is really not so much to be despised, and so large a part
does it play in the social life of the twentieth century, that it is
worth a moment’s thought.
Suburban gardens are of many kinds; there are all manner of notes in
the scale. The squalid ones--alas! some are squalid--we see in London’s
shabbiest border-lands. They often belong to houses filled with many
different families, and are a kind of no man’s land. Hardly can we call
them gardens; little enough is grown in them, though sometimes among
the straggling Runner-beans and rubbish-heaps there will be a tree, a
beautiful spreading tree, like a green-winged angel. Then there are
the tidy patches of the fairly well-to-do workman; some made hideous
by mounds of shells and grottoes, others filled with useful and pretty
plants. So we go upwards, step by step, to the good-sized strip or more
ambitious villa garden. Wonders are done in these. Many a busy City
man, whose garden is not far from the Marble Arch, knows all about
Roses, and might give lessons on Grape-growing and Orchid-forcing to
his relations in the real country.
Suburban gardens naturally have not the same good chances as are
enjoyed by country gardens, but they do know some joys that may be
envied. One is the birds. It is not that there are more of them, but
those there are, are such a pleasure. When a new bird of a rarer kind
than ordinary is coaxed into the precincts of one’s own domain, how
great the interest, and how many friendly traps are laid for him in the
way of food, water, and material for building. And wild flowers; when
unfamiliar seedlings appear, one knows not whence, here is another joy.
Few people in country gardens know every leaf and blade by heart as
do the owners of the small suburban garden, so carefully watched, so
tenderly made the most of.
There is many a quaint touch about these gardens of the suburbs. They
are often, like blouses and children’s frocks after sale-time, made of
remnants. Some large old holding is cut into blocks. Block A gets bits
of orchard; Block B, a piece of garden-ground with Roses and blossoming
trees, Block C may have nothing but Briars and Blackberries. Or in
another place a stately avenue has been cut down for building, and
some magnificent Elm or Oak or Cedar has been spared, and is stranded,
a forlorn-looking prisoner, in the back garden of some modern villa.
Well, he is a blessing to somebody; little children may still play
about beneath his sheltering arms, where the rooks yet cling to their
old haunts, croaking cheerfully as ever.
Nor is it altogether unpleasing to have a garden near the busy haunts
of men; the roar and rattle of the streets, that sound like the humming
of innumerable bees, the strange glow of lights in the distance, the
pealing of bells and the striking of many clocks, the thunder and
whistle of the trains that link us with friends far off, the stir and
throb of human life, that chimes in, not inharmoniously with the calmer
life of Nature--all these things combine in making up the unexpressed
enjoyments of the dwellers in gardens that lie close to the heart of
towns.
“Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite
Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love.
News from the humming city comes to it,
In sound of funeral or marriage bells.”
[Illustration: MICHAELMAS DAISIES]
My own belief is, that ever such a small garden is better than none,
and that life without its flowers is not worth living. Should this
little book be found a help or encouragement to any town-dwellers who
love plants and flowers well enough to wish to see them as they live
and grow, as well as to enjoy their beauty and sweetness when they are
cut, the pleasant time of writing it will not have been ill spent. In
every case, where possible the fruits of practical experiences have
been given, imagination and exaggeration have been excluded.