of their habits. They send out strong branches from the base of the
plant, shortly after planting, and these branches will generally bear
from five to eight blossoms. When all the buds on the branch have
developed into flowers, nothing more can be expected from that branch in
the way of bloom, unless it can be coaxed to send out other branches.
This it can be prevailed on to do by close pruning. Cut the old branch
back to some point along its length--preferably near its base--where
there is a strong "eye" or bud. If the soil is rich--and it can hardly
be _too rich_, for these Roses, like those of the kinds treated of in
the foregoing chapter, require strong food and a great deal of it in
order to do themselves justice--this bud will soon develop into a
vigorous branch which, like the original one, will bear a cluster of
flowers. In order to keep a succession of bloom it is absolutely
necessary to keep the plant producing new branches, as flowers are only
borne on new growth. It will be noticed that the treatment required by
these Roses is almost identical, so far, with that advised for the
Hybrid Perpetuals. Indeed, the latter are summer ever-bloomers of a
stronger habit than the class I am now speaking about. That is about all
the difference there is between them, up to this point, except as
regards the flowering habit. The Hybrid Perpetual blooms profusely in
June and July, but sparingly thereafter, while the ever-bloomers bloom
freely all the season after they get a good start.
Fertilizer should be applied at least once a month. Not in large
quantities, each time, but enough to stimulate a strong and healthy
growth. The plants should be kept going ahead constantly. Let them get a
check, and you will find it a difficult matter to get many flowers from
them after that, the same season. Give them the treatment that results
in continuous growth and you will have Roses in abundance up to the
coming of cold weather. Of course plants so treated are not to be
expected to attain much size. But who cares for large bushes if he can
have fine flowers and plenty of them?
The blossoms from the Teas and their kindred are never as large as those
of the June and the Hybrid Perpetual classes, and, as a general thing,
are not as brilliant in color. Some are delightfully fragrant, while
some have no fragrance at all.
La France,--which is classed as a Hybrid Tea, because it is the result
of hybridizing one of the hardier varieties with a pure-blooded Tea
variety,--is one of the finest Roses ever grown. It is large, and fine
in form, rich, though not brilliant, in color, is a very free bloomer,
and its fragrance is indescribably sweet. Indeed, all the sweetness of
the entire Rose family seems concentrated in its peculiar, powerful,
but, at the same time, delicate odor. Color, pale pink.
Duchess de Brabant is an old variety, popular years and years ago, but
all the better for that, for its long-continued popularity proves it the
possessor of exceptional merit. It is of very free development, and
bears large quantities of flowers of silvery pink.
Viscountess Folkestone is, like La France, a Hybrid Tea. It is an
excellent bloomer. Its color is a soft pink, shaded with cream, with
reflexed petals. It has a rich, June-Rose fragrance.
Maman Cochet is, all things considered, one of the best of its class. It
blooms in wonderful profusion. It is a strong grower. Its color is a
bright pink, overlaid with silvery lustre. It is very double, and quite
as lovely in bud as in the expanded flower.
[Illustration: TEA ROSE]
Hermosa is an old favorite. It is always in bloom when well cared
for. Its rich carmine-rose flowers are very double, and are produced in
prodigal profusion. But it lacks the charm of fragrance.
Caprice is a very peculiar variety. Its thick, waxen petals of rosy
carmine are heavily blotched and striped with dark red, shading to
crimson. It is most pleasing when the flower begins to expand.
Perle des Jardins is a most lovely Rose, of almost as rich a color as
the famous Marechal Neil,--a deep, glowing yellow,--lovely beyond
description. It is a very free bloomer, and should be given a place in
all collections.
Sunset--another good bloomer--is a tawny yellow in color, flamed with
fawn and coppery tints. It is an exquisite Rose.
Clothilde Soupert does not properly belong to either of the four classes
mentioned above, though of course closely related. It is catalogued as a
Polyantha. Its habit is peculiar. It bears enormous quantities of
flowers, with the greatest freedom of any Rose I have ever grown, but
its blossoms are small, and are produced in clusters quite unlike those
of the other members of the ever-blooming class. Indeed, its habit of
growth and flowering is quite like that of the Rambler varieties, on a
small scale. But, unlike the Ramblers, its flowers are very double. They
are produced at the extremity of the new branches, in clusters of
fifteen to twenty and thirty. So many are there to each branch that you
will find it advisable to thin out half of them if you want perfect
flowers. In color it is a delicate pink on first opening, fading to
almost white. At the centre of the flower it is a bright carmine. Give
this variety a trial and you will be delighted with it.
It must not be understood that the above list includes all the desirable
sorts adapted to general culture. It is simply a list of the most
distinct varieties that respond satisfactorily to the treatment
outlined, and from which the amateur gardener can expect the best
results. There are scores of other varieties possessing exceptional
merit, but many of them require the attention of the professional in
order to give satisfaction, and are not what I feel warranted in
recommending the amateur to undertake the culture of if large quantities
of flowers are what he has in mind. Every one on the list given is a
standard variety, and you will find that you have made no mistake in
confining your selection to it.
I would advise the purchase of two-year-old plants. Younger plants
seldom bloom with much profusion the first season.
Order your plants in April. Get them into the ground about the middle of
May. Mulch the soil about them well. This will do away with the
necessity of watering if the season happens to prove a dry one. In
planting, be governed by the directions given in the chapter on "The
Rose."
Try a bed of these ever-bloomers for a season and you will never
afterward be without them. Other flowers will rival them in brilliance,
perhaps, and may require less attention, but--they will not be Roses!
One fine Rose affords more pleasure to the lover of the best among
flowers than a whole garden full of ordinary blossoms can, and this is
why I urge all flower-loving people to undertake the culture of the
ever-blooming class of Roses, for I know they will give greater
satisfaction than anything else you can grow.
In fall, the plants can be taken up, packed away in boxes of earth, and
kept in the cellar over winter. Cut away almost the entire top when the
plants are lifted. All that one cares to carry through the winter is the
root of the plant.
THE DAHLIA
Thirty or forty years ago the Dahlia was one of our popular flowers.
That is, popular among those who aspired to "keep up with the times,"
and grow all the new plants that had real merit in them. At that time
but one form of it was considered worth growing, and that was the very
double, globular type of flower. The single varieties were looked upon
as worthless.
After a time the popularity of the flower waned for some reason hard to
account for, except on the theory that there are fashions in flowers as
in clothes. I presume that the true explanation is that we Americans are
prone to run to extremes, and when we take up a plant and it becomes a
favorite we overdo matters and tire of it because we see so much of it.
Then we relegate it to the background for a time, and after awhile we
drag it out of the obscurity to which we temporarily consigned it as a
penalty for its popularity, and straightway it comes into greater
prominence than ever, precisely as does the cut of a sleeve or the style
of hair-dressing. This explanation may not be very complimentary to
American good sense or taste, but I think it goes to the root of the
matter. It is sincerely to be hoped that the time will come when our
flower-growing will have no trace of the fad about it, and that whatever
we cultivate will grow into favor solely because of real merit, and that
its popularity will be permanent. I am encouraged to think that such may
be the case, for some of the favorite flowers of the day have held their
own against all newcomers for a considerable period, and seem to be
growing in favor every year. This is as it should be.
It used to be thought that the Dahlia could not be grown successfully at
the north if it were not started into growth in the house, or
greenhouse, very early in the season. Nine times out of ten the result
was a weak, spindling plant by the time it was safe to put it into the
ground--which was not until all danger from frost was over. Generally
such plants were not strong enough to bloom until about the time frost
came in fall, for it took them the greater part of the season to recover
from the effect of early forcing, in which the vitality of the plant
suffered almost to the point of extinction, and to which was added the
ordeal of the change from in- to out-door conditions. "Our seasons are
too short for it," was the universal verdict. "At the south it may do
well, but there's no use in trying to do anything with it at the north
unless one has a greenhouse, and understands the peculiarities of the
plant better than the rank and file of flower-loving people can expect
to." So it came about that its cultivation was given up by small
gardeners, and it was seen only on the grounds of the wealthier people,
who could afford the services of the professional gardener.
We have learned, of late years, that our treatment of the plant was
almost the opposite of what was required.
Some eight or ten years ago, I ordered a collection of choice varieties
of the Dahlia. I ordered them early in the season, expecting to start
them into growth in pots as usual. For some reason they did not come
until the last day of May. It was then too late to start them in the
usual way, and I planted them in the garden, expecting they would amount
to nothing.
The result was, to me, a most surprising one.
The place in which I planted them was one whose soil was very rich and
mellow. It was near a pump, from which a great deal of water was thrown
out every day.
In less than a week after planting, the tubers threw up strong shoots,
and these grew very rapidly under the combined effects of rich soil,
warmth, and plenty of moisture at the roots. Indeed, they went ahead so
rapidly that I considered their growth a discouraging feature, as I felt
sure it must be a weak one.
The result was that when the State Horticultural Society held its summer
meeting in the village in which I resided, on the twenty-eighth of
August, I placed on exhibition some of the finest specimens of Dahlia
blossoms the members of the Society had ever seen, and carried off eight
first premiums.
Since then I have never attempted to start my Dahlias in the house. I
give them an extremely rich soil, spaded up to the depth of at least a
foot and a half, and made so mellow that the new roots find it an easy
matter to work their way through it. Water is applied freely during the
season. I consider this an item of great importance, as I find that the
plant fails to make satisfactory development when located in a dry
place. A pailful of water a day is not too much to apply to each plant
in a dry season.
The soil must be rich. In a poor soil development will be on a par with
that of plants which have been given a dry place.
Because of the peculiar brittleness of the stalks of the Dahlia it is
quite necessary to furnish them with good support. My plan is to set a
stout stake by each plant, at planting-time. This should be at least
five feet tall. I put it in place at the time of planting the tuber,
because then I know just where the root of the future plant is, and can
set the stake without injuring it. But if stake-setting is left until
later in the season one runs a risk of breaking off some of the new
tubers that have formed about the old one. I tie the main stalk of the
plant to the stake with a strip of cloth instead of a string, as the
latter will cut into the soft wood. Sometimes, if the plant sends up a
good many stalks, it will be necessary to furnish additional support.
Unless some kind of support is given we are likely to get up some
morning after a heavy rain, or a sudden wind, and find our plants broken
down, and in attempting to save them we are pretty sure to complete the
wreck, as a slight twist or turn in the wrong direction will snap the
stalk off at its junction with the root.
The Dahlia will be found one of our very best plants for use in the
border where something is needed for a filler. It is very effective as a
hedge, and can be used to great advantage to hide a fence. Single
specimens are fine for prominent locations on the grounds about the
house. In fact, it is a plant that can be made useful anywhere.
[Illustration: CACTUS DAHLIA]
In fall, when our early frosts come, it will be necessary to protect it
on cool nights, as it is extremely tender. This can be easily done by
setting some stout sticks about the plant and covering it with a sheet.
If tided over the frosty weather that usually comes for two or three
nights about the middle of September, it will bloom profusely during the
weeks of pleasant weather that almost always follow the early frosts,
and then is when it will be enjoyed most.
When the frost has killed its stalks, it should be dug and got ready for
winter. Lift the great mass of roots that will have grown from the
little tuber planted at the beginning of the season, and do this without
breaking them apart, if possible. Spread them out in the sun. At night
cover with a blanket, and next day expose them to sunshine again. Do
this for several days in succession until the soil that is lifted with
them will crumble away easily. Exposure to sunshine has the effect of
relieving them of a good deal of moisture which they contain in great
quantity when first dug, and which ought to be got rid of, in a large
degree, before they are stored in the cellar.
The tubers should never be placed on the cellar-bottom, because of the
dampness that is generally found there. I spread mine out on shelves of
wire netting, suspended four or five feet from the floor. If they show
signs of mould I know they are too damp, and elevate the shelves still
more, in order to get the tubers into a dryer stratum of air. If they
seem to be shrivelling too much, I lower the shelves a little. Cellars
differ so much that one can only tell where the right place is by
experimenting. Watch your tubers carefully. A little neglect will often
result in failure, as mould, once given a chance to secure a foothold,
is rapid in its action, and your tubers may be beyond help before you
discover that there is anything the matter with them. As soon as you
find a mouldy root, throw it out. If left it will speedily communicate
its disease to every plant with which it comes in contact. Some persons
tell me that they succeed in wintering their Dahlia tubers best by
packing them in boxes of perfectly dry sand. If this is done, be sure
to elevate the box from the floor of the cellar.
Quite naturally persons have an idea that the best results will be
secured by planting out the whole bunch of tubers, in spring. This is a
mistake. One good tuber, with an "eye," or growing point, will make a
much better plant than the whole bunch set out together.
To sum up the treatment I advise in the cultivation of the Dahlia:
Have the ground very rich.
Have it worked deeply.
Plant single tubers about the first of June.
Furnish a good support.
See that the ground is well supplied with moisture.
There has been a great change of opinion with regard to the Dahlia. We
no longer confine ourselves to one type of it. The single varieties,
which were despised of old, are now prime favorites--preferred by many
to any other kind. The old very double "show" and "fancy" varieties are
largely grown, but they share public favor with the "decoratives," the
pompones, and the cactus, and, as I have said, the single forms. Which
of these forms is most popular it would be hard to say. All of them have
enthusiastic champions, and the best thing to do is to try them all.
"Show" Dahlias are those with large and very double flowers of a single
color, and those in which the ground color is of a lighter shade than
the edges or tips of the petals. The outer petals recurve, as the flower
develops, until they meet at the stem, thus giving us a ball-like
blossom.
"Fancy" Dahlias are those having striped petals, and those in which the
ground color is darker than the edges or tips of the petals. This class,
as a rule, is very variable, and a plant will often have flowers showing
but one color. Sometimes half the flower will be one color, half
another.
The Pompone or Liliputian class is a miniature edition of the show and
fancy sorts, quite as rich in color and perfect in form as either, but
of a dwarf habit of growth. This class is well adapted to bedding out in
summer.
The Cactus Dahlia has long pointed or twisted petals. Most varieties are
single, but some are semi-double. This is the class that will be likely
to find favor with those who admire the ragged Japanese Chrysanthemums.
Decorative Dahlias have broad, flat petals, somewhat loosely arranged,
and much less formal than those of the show, fancy, or pompone sorts.
Their flowers seldom have more than two rows of petals, and are flat,
showing a yellow disc at the centre. As a general thing they are
produced on long stalk, a flower to a stalk. This makes them very useful
for cutting. They are the most graceful members of the entire Dahlia
family, allowing me to be judge.
The single type has but one row of petals. Plants of this class are very
strong growers, and can be used to advantage in the back rows of the
border.
No flower in cultivation to-day has a wider range of color than the
Dahlia, and nearly all the colors represented in it are wonderfully rich
in tone. From the purest white to the richest crimson, the deepest
scarlet, delicate pink and carmine, rich yellow, dark purple, orange and
palest primrose,--surely all tastes can find something to please them.
THE GLADIOLUS
One of the most popular flowers of the day is the Gladiolus. All things
considered, it is our best summer bloomer. Nothing in the floral world
exceeds it in variety and range of color. This color is in some
varieties dark and rich in scarlets, crimsons, and purples, in others
dainty and delicate in pink, pearly flesh, almost pure white, and
softest rose, while the midway sorts are in brilliant carmines,
cherry-reds, lilacs, and intermediate tones too numerous to mention.
Nearly all varieties show most magnificent combinations of color that
baffle description. Comparatively few varieties are one color
throughout.
Most plants in which such a bewildering variety of color is found have a
tendency to coarseness, but this objection cannot be urged against the
Gladiolus. It has all the delicacy of the Orchid. Its habit of growth
fits it admirably for use in the border. Its ease of cultivation makes
it a favorite with the amateur who has only a limited amount of time to
spend among the flowers. It is a plant that any one can grow, and it is
a plant that will grow almost anywhere. It is one of the few plants that
seem almost able to take care of themselves. Beyond putting the corms in
the ground, in spring, and an occasional weeding as the plant develops,
very little attention is required.
To secure the best effect from it, the Gladiolus should be planted in
masses. Single specimens are far less satisfactory. One must see fifty
or a hundred plants in a bed ten or fifteen feet long to fully
appreciate what it is capable of doing.
The time to plant it is in May, after the soil has become warm. Nothing
is gained by earlier planting.
The bed should be spaded to the depth of a foot, at least. Then the soil
should be worked over until it is fine and light. A liberal quantity of
some good fertilizer should be added to it. Commercial fertilizers seem
to suit it well, but the use of barnyard manure gives excellent results,
and I would prefer it, if obtainable.
The corms should be put about four inches below the surface, care being
exercised at the time of planting to see that they are right side up.
It is often difficult to decide this matter before sprouting begins,
but a little careful examination of the corm will soon enable you to
tell where the sprouts will start from, and this will prevent you from
getting it wrong-side up. As soon as the plants send up a stalk, some
provision should be made for future support. If you prefer to stake the
beds, set the stakes in rows about two feet apart. Wire or cord need not
be stretched on them until the stalks are half grown. The reason for
setting the stakes early in the season is--you know just where the corm
is then, but later on you will not be able to tell where the new corms
are, and in setting the stakes at random you are quite likely to injure
them. When you apply the cord or wire to the stakes, run it lengthwise
of the bed, and then across it in order to furnish a sufficient support
without obliging the stalks to lean from the perpendicular to get the
benefit of it.
For several seasons past, I have made use of a coarse-meshed wire
netting, placed over the bed, and fastened to stakes about eighteen
inches high. The stalks find no difficulty in making their way through
the large meshes of the netting, and with a support of this kind they
dispose themselves in a natural manner that is far more satisfactory
than tying them to stakes, as we often see done. Some kind of a support
must be given if we would guard against injury caused by strong winds.
When the flower-stalk is once prostrated it is a difficult matter to get
it back in place without breaking it.
If netting is used it need not be placed over the bed before the middle
of July. By that time most of the weeds which require attention during
the early part of the season will have been disposed of. Putting on the
netting at an earlier period would greatly interfere with the proper
cultivation of the bed. The soil should be kept light and open until the
flower-stalks begin to show their buds.
The flowering-period covers several weeks, beginning in August, and
lasting all through September.
The Gladiolus is extremely effective for interior decorative work. It
lasts for days after being cut. Indeed, if cut when the first flowers at
the base of the spike open, it will continue to develop the buds above
until all have become flowers, if the water in which the stalks are
placed is changed daily, and a bit of the end of the stalk is cut off
each time. For church use no flower excels it except the Lily, and that
we can have for only a short time, and quite often not at all.
In late October the plants should be lifted, and spread out in the
sunshine to ripen. Do not cut the stalks away until you are ready to
store the corms. Then cut off each stalk about two inches from its
junction with the corm. When the roots seem well dried out, put them in
paper bags containing perfectly dry sawdust or buckwheat shells, and
hang them in a dry place where the frost will not get at them. I would
not advise storing them in the cellar, as they generally mould or mildew
there.
Most varieties increase quite rapidly. You will find several new corms
in fall, taking the place of the old one planted in spring. Often there
will be scores of little fellows the size of a pea, clustered about the
larger corms. These should be saved, and planted out next spring. Sow
them close together in rows, as you would wheat. The following year they
will bloom.
So extensively is the Gladiolus grown at the present time that enough to
fill a good-sized bed can be bought for a small sum. And in no other way
can you invest a little money and be sure of such generous returns. What
the Geranium is to the window-garden that the Gladiolus is to the
outdoor garden, and one is of as easy culture as the other.
[Illustration: A GARDEN GLIMPSE]
Some of the choicest varieties are sold at a high price. One reason for
this is--the finest varieties are slow to increase, and it takes a long
time to get much of a stock together. This is why they are so rare, and
so expensive. But many of them are well worth all that is asked for
them.