A WINTER GARDEN OF TREES AND SHRUBS
The budding spring, the ripening summer, the outpoured riches of
harvest, appeal to all, physically if not spiritually. But to hundreds
of people a winter landscape is dreary beyond expression. They never
dream of going into a garden during the dark months; to them its silent
lessons are but a dead-letter, nor would they ever wake to the beauty of
bare boughs nor pause to note the strange glow of withered Fern fronds
in the grey gloom of a foggy day. We are not wholly free from blame in
this matter in so far as our gardens are concerned, for spring and
summer and autumn all have their share in the garden plan, while winter,
too often, stands apart uncared for and unclothed. Yet how much may be
done by the right grouping of beautiful trees and shrubs to make the
winter garden harmonious and inviting.
"You see, it takes a deal of insight to know what's a-going to be," was
a remark, half-apologetic, half-regretful, often made by an old gardener
of a school now gone by, when matters horticultural went somewhat
athwart of his calculations. The words recur to mind as containing a
germ of truth beyond the meaning of the speaker. It has been well said
with regard to deeper matters that foresight must spring from insight,
and it may be taken also as a foundation principle of good gardening.
For just in proportion as we use our faculties of insight and foresight
will our gardens grow, more or less, into a perfect expression of our
sense of the ever-changeful, never-ending beauty of Nature.
It must be no cursory glance given to get rid of an unwelcome duty. We
must look deep into the meaning of things as they are--a meaning which
never lies wholly on the surface--before we can forecast them as they
are going to be, and such insight rarely comes by intuition. The seeing
eye is given only to a few, though with some it is but sleep-holden and
needs no more than to be awakened.
The things that are and the things that are to be. Let us take the
thought as company and try to glean some of Nature's own lessons of
fitness. How instinctively we seek, for a winter ramble, the shelter of
the woodland copse, which is not far distant from any English country
habitation. The broad grass drive is hoar with frosty rime in the shadow
of the bushes and crisp under foot. Under the trees the ground on either
side is carpeted with Ivy. The lithe, trailing stems, wreathed with
their shining, taper-fingered leaves, so exquisitely pencilled, are
cushioned on the soft, feathery moss, or twine in and out amongst the
Hazel stocks, or creep at will up the nearest tree trunk. One can
scarcely look at Ivy on a winter's day without a thrill of admiration,
especially this woodland sort, for, mark it well, Nature never
encourages the coarse-leaved Ivy of common cultivation within her
domains. How perfect in its grace is this fine-leaved Ivy, how utterly
content with its surroundings, how resolutely cheerful, be the
circumstances of weather or situation what they may! Clinging lowly to
the ground or mounting to the topmost branch of some tall Pine, it is
equally at home, and why should we not agree with that good naturalist,
Charles Waterton, in his assertion that forest tree was never injured by
its clasping stems? An English plant for our English climate, it may be
used to make beautiful an unsightly building, to clothe a decaying tree
stump, as bush or border or mantle, in a hundred different ways, yet it
is never out of character, and never touches a jarring note.
Then those tall Hollies, see how dauntlessly they stand up above the
undergrowth of Hazel. How living and warm, in their ruddy glow, are the
clustering berries in the glint of the fearless leaves. For expedience
sake, their lower branches have been trimmed away, and greatly we gain
by it, for otherwise that lovely contrast of their ashen-grey stems
would be hidden from our eyes; but over yonder a fine old Holly tree
stands alone, which axe and knife have left untouched, and how graceful
is the curven sweep of its feathering boughs. No foreign evergreen can
excel it for symmetry of form or winter garniture of leaf and fruit.
Life is astir, too, in the brown twigs of the Hazel bushes. The infant
year is not more than a week or two old, yet already the tasselled
catkins are swinging in the lightest rustle of the sighing wind, and
begin to lift up their tiers of small woolly cowls to set free the
yellow pollen-dust. And so we may go on our way, and, at every turn,
some rugged Yew, or clump of red-stemmed Scotch Fir, or tapering Spruce
with hanging russet cones, will stay our steps, and if we look and
listen, they will tell us in their own way the story of their perfect
fitness for our homely English landscape. Or, if we chance to be in one
of the chalky districts of the South Downs, we may come upon Box, the
ever young, as it was called of yore, or Juniper, in its bloom of silver
grey, as precious as any, to add to the tale of our best native
evergreens.
Now it is to a wise choice of evergreens and to their rightful placing
that we must look for the basis of our content in the winter garden. The
insight of our forefathers foresaw the solid comfort of the rampart of
Yew which was fostered of old in many a manor-house garden. It caused
them to fence about their dwellings on north and east with a belt of
sturdy timber trees, to meet and ward off in their pliant strength the
roughest winter gales. It planned the sheltered nut-walk and the
pleached alley and the cosy settle, carved out of the thick Box bushes,
on the grassy verge of the bowling-green. They took of the materials at
hand, and many have since their day blessed the foresight which planted,
not only for themselves, but for their children's children. That they
were not blind to the rare beauty of foreign trees many a magnificent
Cedar of Lebanon and massive Holm Oak or deciduous tree--like the fine
Tulip trees at Mackery End, beloved of Charles Lamb--bear noble
testimony to this hour.
Nothing, perhaps, in the wide range of garden beauty is more pictorial
than an ancient Cedar, dusky and glaucous, with cavernous shadows,
holding upright the smooth, pale-brown, rounded cones on its flattened
branches, or some grand Silver Fir standing alone in its solemn
symmetrical beauty, or even, as may now and then be seen, though rarely,
some stately Araucaria, wind-sheltered, whose radiating branches sweep
down upon the greensward. Others there are, no less pictorial perhaps,
nor even less exacting, for none can do without the shelter of a good
position, such as the Stone Pines, with corrugated trunk and green
spreading head; or again, the graceful fragrant Cypress (_C.
lawsoniana_) of more recent date, with its slender pyramidal growth and
drooping feathery branches, taking on at the close of winter the
ruby-red of the catkins which tell of the coming of the small,
bloom-powdered cones.
The desperate hurry, the incessant crowding out of the times in which we
live, give little encouragement to the sentiment of planting for
posterity, yet some such planting is continually being done. This much
must be said, that the last fifty years have seen the introduction of
numberless fine trees and shrubs, the fitness of which for our climate
time alone could test. During that period in England, the Mammoth tree
of the Yosemite Valley (_Sequoia gigantea_) has been planted in its
thousands, and by irony of fate, the giant not seldom finds itself
cramped within the limits of a half-acre plot. But leaving out the
question of space, it is a tree utterly unsuited to our northern
climate, unless under exceptional circumstances, as its scorched and
fretted branches on the windward side sufficiently prove; while in
itself it is not nearly so grand or suggestive as its near-of-kin, the
beautiful Californian Redwood (_S. sempervirens_).
Ah! that burning question of space, how it comes between us and our
highest garden aspirations! Have we not all seen the Deodar or the
Araucaria trying to exist in a narrow, twelve-foot forecourt, and
smiled, if we have not rather been ready to weep, over the crass
absurdity of its position? But such mistakes are made every day. Let us
think, then, before we plant, of the things that are going to be, and
take prudent counsel with ourselves.
Our garden resources, nowadays, are beyond all calculation greater than
those of our forefathers, and we rejoice and are glad because of it; but
we should let nothing oust from our affections the hardy trees and
shrubs, native and naturalised, that are at home in our climate,
beautiful in themselves and invaluable in their fitness to give shelter
to the more fastidious immigrants from other latitudes.
Shelter, in fact, is as the keynote to the winter garden. Beauty is
killed when leaves that should be green and smiling are bruised and
brown, when boughs that should be perfect in grace and curve are twisted
and tortured. We may be very sure, too, that such symptoms of discomfort
in our gardens will re-act in disquiet on ourselves, whereas the mere
sight of tree or bush standing firm in its green bravery through storm
and stress tends, it may be unawares, to brace and uplift. Even the
familiar Laurel, good as it is when suitably placed, and used not too
freely, is constantly scathed and disfigured in damp or low-lying
localities. For the same reason, it is doubtful whether Rhododendrons
should be planted within range of our windows. Most of them, in severe
weather, frightened before they are hurt, put on a melancholy air and
droop of leaf which is apt to send a shiver through any shrinking mortal
whose vitality is already low enough.
The bare boughs of winter, on the contrary, are never depressing. They
sleep, but it is not the sleep of death; they rest, but while they are
resting, we feel that the mystery of life silently works out the
fulfilment of the promise of re-awakening. Meanwhile, before the veil of
leafage hides so much else that is beautiful from our eyes, we see the
things that are, tree trunks in all their majesty of girth and column
and fencing bark, the net-work of budding spray, each after its kind
distinct, yet each in its own form perfect. Even in mid-winter, the
brown gummy buds of the Horse Chestnuts begin to swell at the ends of
the swaying boughs, and the Ash-buds, as they make ready to burst their
bonds, put on a deeper hue.
The Beeches keep their silken green tight shut within their scale-bound
points, and will not let it unfold an hour too soon; but look at the
lovely colouring, now silvern, now golden green, of the Lichen-stains on
the smooth grey bark. Contrast it with the deeply-chiselled ribs of the
Sweet Chestnut, the rugged armour-plates of the Oak, the thin white
tissue of the dainty Silver Birch. It is this diversity, these
contrasts, which make up the charm of winter, while the sombre green of
Fir and Yew intermingling with the leafless trees gives just the touch
of warmth and comfort which winter lacks. If any of these bless our
gardens with their gracious presence, let us hesitate long before any
trivial inconvenience tempts us into doing away with them. A single
group of Silver Birches, one spreading Beech, a clump of Scotch Fir,
with a stretch of grass beneath them, is more precious to look out upon
in the winter garden than all the borders and rockeries that can be
devised. Urge as we may, however, for their own sake, the fitness and
constant delight of our native trees and evergreen shrubs, we plead for
them, no less, because by their well-advised use our sheltered gardens
may become congenial abiding-places for the strangers we may invite
within our gates.
Do we profit as much as we might by the wealth of garden beauty, in the
way of trees and shrubs, which for every intent and purpose lies within
our reach?
Take Magnolias, for example. They are not sub-tropical trees, as we are
apt to think, but fairly hardy, and the Laurel Magnolia, so well known
as a beautiful covering for a south wall, is seldom enough seen in
standard form. Yet it is one of the most stately of evergreen trees, and
it would be hard to find one more worthy of a good position, sheltered
from north and easterly winds. The whole outline of the tree is noble,
with its broad, shining, russet-backed leaves, a delight to look upon in
winter--nor is it shy, when full-grown, of bearing in late summer its
scented ivory-white lily-cups. It is too much, however, to expect the
lovely-sculptured, crimson-flushed cones, which in warmer climates than
ours open about November to disclose their hanging scarlet seeds. Some
of the deciduous Magnolias, too, such as the fine Chinese Yulan (_M.
conspicua_) and the bushy white-flowered Japanese species (_M.
stellata_), are full of interest, even while lifeless. All through the
winter we may watch the gradual filling out of the hairy, conical
flower-bracts, until at length, in very early spring, the impatient buds
can contain themselves no longer, and all too soon, sometimes, push them
off altogether that they may creep out of their prison bands.
Every one has his private calendar, and reckons the seasons by a
computation of his own, but we may safely say that four long months, if
no more, separate the falling of the leaf from its coming again.
Perhaps we ought not to include Magnolias amongst hibernal flowers,
though the trees are often white with blossom before the Larch is green;
but the list of shrubs which bloom, or are bright with coloured fruit
during those four months, would surprise most people who think of winter
only as the dead season. The boughs of Sea Buckthorn are loaded with
orange berries. Clusters of scarlet peep out of the fresh green of the
Skimmia bushes and, so long as the birds do not find them out,
_Pernettya_ carries a crop of purple and crimson and pink fruit more
showy than the modest white flowers of summer. When November days are
growing dark, _Coronilla_, in sheltered spots, puts forth its pale
clustering yellow flowers. Winter Jasmine, if the flowering branches are
not ruthlessly pruned away in autumn, covers its long green shoots with
golden stars. The evergreen Clematis (_C. calycina_) is never happier
than when clinging to some terrace balustrade where it may have a little
kindly shelter, which it repays by wreathing the stone-work with
garlands of finely-cut bronzed foliage, hung with creamy freckled bells.
More than one kind of hardy Heath, if grown in spreading masses, will
deck the garden with sheets of colour the whole winter through.
The Chinese Honeysuckle (_L. Standishii_) arrays itself in its fragile
white flowers as early as January. Witch Hazels hang their bare branches
with twisted petals of gold or amber or, sometimes (as in _Hamamelis
zuccariniana_), borrow the pale-green tint of the under wing of a
brimstone butterfly. Soon after Christmas, Mezereon flushes into rosy
purple, and bushes of Winter-sweet (_Chimonanthus fragrans_),
independent of a wall (as few people know), will breathe out its perfume
from leafless branches studded over with waxen-yellow flowers. It is
strange how many of these winter-blooming plants keep their leaves well
out of harm's way, brave as their flowers may be. But so it is, and so
we learn that if we would gain their fullest winter beauty, we must
group them with evergreen shrubs as foil or background.
And what store there is of these to choose from, not green only, but
colour-tinged--_Berberis_ of many kinds, the shining ordered leaf-rows
of _Azara_, the purple tints of _Mahonia_ and _Gaultheria_, the bronze
of _Andromeda_ buds, the deep dull green of _Osmanthus_, the wine red of
_Leucothoe_, the pearl grey of _Atriplex_, and a hundred more will
respond to our beck and call. Only we must choose with judgment, for
whether our lot is cast in north or south, in the black east or soft
caressing west, makes all the difference to our choosing. Only be sure
that more important still than climate are the wind-breaks we can plan,
and the shelter we may contrive. Yet when we are in doubt we can always
come back with satisfaction to the quick-growing hardiest shrubs and
find in them some fit setting for our garden picture. The slender angled
branches of green Broom, the rigid spiny Furze, scented Rosemary, or
hoary Lavender--all will lend their varied tints and attributes as we
need them. And if a pool or stream only gives us opportunity, what can
surpass the winter colouring of osier twigs--golden and crimson and
olive, mirrored in still water or broken into a thousand reflections by
the ripple of a running brook?
Perhaps, amongst all the wealth of winter evergreen shrubs the rank of
those which show variegation is too much exaggerated. Popular as they
are, the effect is not always good, unless more than ordinary care is
taken in their placing. Some few, like the best golden and silver
Hollies, are very beautiful, though not all of these are improvements
upon the finest green forms. No variegated shrub, probably, is more
universally grown than the Aucuba, and it has excellent points; it is
hardy in constitution, handsome in outline, and bold of leaf. By
ill-luck, as it happened, more than a hundred years ago, the spotted
variety was sent home first from Japan, and became domiciled in English
gardens and rooted in English affections before the far more worthy
green species made its entry.
It is but a private opinion and not given as dogma that it might
possibly be a distinct gain to gardens, large and small, if the spotted
Aucuba were practically banished and the true green-leaved forms--some
of which are generally beautiful when well set with large coral
berries--allowed to take its place. The variegated Oleaster (_Elaeagnus
pungens_), a remarkably fine shrub when taken by itself, sadly disturbs
the repose and dignity of the garden outlook in winter, though doubtless
positions might be found in which it would harmonise with its
surroundings.
We need only con over, mentally, all the more familiar examples of
shrub variegation to find, probably, that we should do as well without a
goodly proportion of them, though we may frankly admit some to be very
handsome. The secret of our discontent, possibly, lies in the fact that
variegation in plants that are normally green is not, in its essence, a
sign of health but of wasting sickness. In any case, whatever our
feelings may be on this particular point, it is well worth while to
weigh the merits of each shrub, variegated or green, before we plant it,
not only individually, but in relation to its neighbourhood to other
garden associates, and more especially with regard to its winter aspect.
Mr. Bean writes as follows about the winter beauty of trees and shrubs:
"Even in November and December there are trees and shrubs that brighten
the garden with their coloured bark and fruits. Although not abundant,
the members of this class are not used so extensively as they might be.
"Among Willows, for instance, there are the golden and red-barked
varieties of _Salix vitellina_. These, though scarcely ever seen, are
capable, when properly treated, of producing bright warm effects that
are especially charming from November to February. When allowed to grow
naturally this Willow--known popularly as the Golden Osier--forms a
graceful tree of large size. Its twigs have a golden or red tinge,
according to the variety, but on fully-grown trees these twigs are not
large, and as it is, of course, the bark of the preceding summer's
growth only that is coloured no very marked colour effect is produced.
To obtain a really bright patch of colour it is necessary to plant these
Willows in goodly-sized groups and to prune them hard back every spring.
By treating them in this way a great cluster of long, wand-like growths
is made every year, the bark over the whole of which becomes a bright
yellow or red as winter approaches. An effective group is produced by
mixing the red and yellow-barked varieties.
"Another striking Willow is _Salix daphnoides_. The young bark of this
species is covered with a thick glaucous or vivid blue-white 'bloom.'
_S. acutifolia_ is similarly distinguished, though not quite so
markedly. Different from any of these Willows, too, is the variety of
_S. triandra_, with purplish-brown bark. To bring out fully the
ornamental qualities of these Willows they should be treated as advised
for _Salix vitellina_. All these Willows are especially charming near
the edge of water. Not only are their moisture-loving propensities
satisfied, but their beauty is doubled by reflection in the water.
"Somewhat similar to the Willows in the character of their bark, but
useful in being adapted for drier situations, are the Cornels
(_Cornus_). The best of the genus in this connexion are _Cornus alba_
and its variety _sibirica_. They produce bark which for one or two
seasons remains a bright red during the time the branches are leafless.
A group of _Cornus alba_, with _Chionodoxa Luciliae_ or Winter Aconite
planted thickly beneath, gives a very pleasing bit of colour early in
the year. A yellow-barked form of _Cornus stolonifera_, known as
_flaviramea_, deserves mention.
"Several shrubs are notable for the particularly bright green of their
bark. The forms of _Kerria japonica_ and _Neillia_ are very bright
during the winter on this account, but still more effective is a near
ally, _Stephanandra Tanakae_, a comparatively new shrub, also from
Japan, but of little value in any other respect. Finally, I may mention
the Rubuses with white stems. As in _Salix daphnoides_, the bark is
covered with the waxy secretion known as 'bloom,' and of a blue-tinted
white. Some six or seven species of Rubus have this character. Of those
obtainable from nurseries, _R. biflorus_, a Himalayan species often to
be had from dealers under the erroneous name of _Rubus leucodermis_, is
the best. Dr. A. Henry has introduced a Chinese species, _Rubus
lasiostylus_, which is even better than _biflorus_; the bloom is more
distinctly blue, and the stems sturdier and more self-supporting. The
species is, however, an extremely rare one in cultivation. It is
scarcely necessary to repeat how essential it is that these Brambles and
Cornels should be planted in bold groups.
"Among trees the most noteworthy as regards the colour of their bark are
the Birches. The beauty of the Common White Birch has not been
overlooked by planters. A single specimen or a few grouped together make
a bright winter picture when associated with evergreens. The Canoe Birch
of North America (_Betula papyrifera_) has a bark of an even purer
white than our native species. The Yellow Birch (_B. lutea_) shows warm
orange-brown tints on the more recently exposed surfaces of its bark.
The bark of the River Birch (_B. nigra_) is not brightly coloured, being
of a dull dark brown, but it gives the tree a notably curious aspect
owing to the way it stands out from the trunk and branches in great
ragged-looking flakes.
[Illustration: _A WITCH HAZEL IN FLOWER: HAMAMELIS JAPONICA VAR.
ZUCCARINIANA._]
A FLOWER GARDEN IN WINTER
"It is possible to make a new feature in gardens by setting apart a
piece of ground exclusively for the cultivation of trees, shrubs, and
bulbs--in short, any plants that flower or are bright with fruit or bark
between, say, the beginning of November and the end of February. One
might term it 'an outdoor winter garden.' For the purpose there would be
required a well-drained piece of ground, the soil of which was fertile
and open. The situation should be fully exposed to the south and west,
but guarded well on the north and east sides by a thick belt of
evergreen trees and shrubs. The shelter would be still more complete if
the site sloped rather steeply to the south-west. Such shelter would be
welcome, not only to the plants that grew there, but to those who might
visit and tend them. Some of the more noteworthy trees and shrubs with
ornamental barks I have already mentioned. Plants that carry their fruit
into winter might be included, such as the Hollies, especially the
yellow-berried Holly; _Crataegus Crus-Galli_ and _C. cordata_;
_Cotoneaster rotundifolia_, which is the best of all the Cotoneasters,
and frequently carries its bright-scarlet berries till March; and
_Hippophae rhamnoides_, the Sea Buckthorn, whose orange-coloured fruits
are borne in such profusion and retain their colour till past Christmas
if the frosts are not too severe. The scarlet-fruited _Skimmia japonica_
and its varieties are very ornamental during the winter months, but of
these (as well as the Hippophae) it is necessary to grow male and female
plants together. Groups of variegated evergreens would not only help to
give shelter and warmth, but would also add to the brightness of the
garden. The best of them are the golden and silver variegated
Elaeagnuses, the Hollies of a similar character, and the best of the
Aucubas, of which there are now some very fine forms; the female plants
are also very ornamental as fruit-bearers. _Pinus sylvestris aurea_, a
variety of the Scotch Pine that turns golden in winter but is green at
other seasons, and _Cupressus macrocarpa lutea_ are the two best
Conifers of their class. Many of the variegated Conifers lose most or
all of their colour as autumn and winter approach.
[Illustration: _ULMUS ALATA._]
"With regard to the trees and shrubs that bear flowers between November
and February, the number is not, of course, great; still, they
constitute a group that is larger, perhaps, than is generally supposed.
The following list, which comprises all that I can call to mind, may be
useful even to those who would not intend to bring them together in one
spot. Some country houses are only occupied during the shooting and
hunting seasons, and these winter-flowering plants are of especial value
in such places. The tree or bush Ivies are very beautiful, and may be
had in great variety, such as yellow berried, _palmata aurea_,
_rhomboidea ovata_, and _amurensis_."
_November_
Arbutus hybrida.
,, Unedo and vars.
Daphne Mezereum grandiflora.
Elaeagnus glabra, macrophylla, and pungens (all delightfully fragrant).
Hamamelis virginica.
Jasminum nudiflorum.
Lonicera fragrantissima.
,, Standishii.
_December and January_
Chimonanthus fragrans.
Clematis calycina.
Crataegus monogyna praecox (Glastonbury Thorn).
Erica mediterranea hybrida.
,, carnea.
,, ,, alba.
Garrya elliptica.
Viburnum Tinus.
_February and early March_
Berberis japonica.
,, nepalensis.
Cornus Mas.
Corylopsis spicata.
Daphne blagayana.
,, Laureola and var. purpurea
,, Mezereum.
,, ,, var. alba.
,, oleoides.
Erica mediterranea.
Hamamelis arborea.
,, japonica.
,, mollis.
,, zuccariniana.
Prunus davidiana (pink and white forms).
,, Amygdalus persicoides.
Populus tremuloides pendula.
Parrotia persica.
Pyrus japonica.
Rhododendron altaclarense.
,, dauricum.
,, nobleanum.
,, praecox.